The Unwanted
by PlasmaBall
Summary: The Doctor is always haunted by someone from his past or future. A teenage girl in the middle of London regenerates. She's not his daughter. She's not his friend. She's /definitely/ not romantically involved with him. So, who or what is she?
1. Chapter 1

* * *

Author's Notes: This is my second edited repost of chapter one because I got a review from someone and had to resist the urge to tell them to fuck off. Part of the point is for this to be unbelieveable, okay? We start off with an OC (who, by the way, isn't actually based on me, like a lot of OCs are.) then we'll get into the sci-fi thing with the Doctor and Martha. To my old readers, you might notice a change in name, but don't worry, Magenta will still be what people call her. There's a reason for it which you may or may not notice later. And age... and the year, possibly... other things as well... whoops. You might also be wondering why I put her age in quotation marks, but you'll get it later. 'Stay ups' are stockings that stay up by themselves - like suspender stockings without suspenders but still up-staying. By the way, I have absolutely no idea about the English school system. I've tried wikipedia, but that confused me. I tried googling it, but that confused me _more,_ I asked a friend of mine who actually went to school in England, and she didn't actually get it either. So let me introduce you to the Aussie school system. Primary school from Grade 1-7. Senior school is 8-12 (or it is in Queensland, anyway). Grades 11 and 12 (which most people finish when they're 17) aren't compulsory but it's _strongly_ encouraged to get out of there with a 'completion of secondary school' type certificate thing and you need that to get into uni. If you don't like my story, do my a favour and tell me _why_. But concisely. I'd appreciate that.

Disclaimer: Well, the word says it all, doesn't it?

Mr Gregson smiled across at the new physics teacher. The new physics teacher was 40, homely and about to start her first day... with a bang.

"If you have any questions or problems just come to see me." He said warmly, guiding her towards the classroom with his hand on the small of her back. "Now, Miss Ventra- "

"Oh, please feel free to call me Tarah." She smiled at him, showing her slightly yellowed teeth off.

"Alright then, Tarah, call me Tony. Now, which class do you have first?"

"I have," She paused, thinking hard, "a class with 12E for, well, physics obviously." She laughed before stopping at the expression on Tony's face.

"Tell me," He began in a strained tone, "do you have a Magdalena Moncrieff in your class?" _Tarah_ checked her class role.

"Yes, yes I think I do." All remnants of a smile were wiped off Mr Gregson's face. They had stopped outside the classroom.

"Good luck with that." He managed before racing away. Miss Ventra blinked in the direction he had disappeared in before stepping into the deadly silent classroom.

* * *

The kids at Webbley Street East Comprehensive could hardly believe their luck. Every single class except 12E (and 9A who were stuck with a substitute) had been let out at least 5 minutes early so their teachers could congregate in the staffroom and, well, gossip. Speculate, might describe it more accurately, especially considering the betting pool they had going on. When Mr Gregson had let slip to Mrs Dommins that the new physics teacher had a class with Magdalenda "Magenta" Moncrieff in it, Mrs Dommins had set her class 'independent study time' for the entire lesson so she could discretely send an email to every other teacher in the school. So now, with a few minutes to go before morning tea was meant to start, Mr Gregson placed a £20 note on the table, just in time for Miss Vetra to sprint into the staff room, trying to hold back tears. There was a great silence, punctuated by Mr Gregson's strained "How'd it go?".

* * *

Magenta Moncrieff's lips twitched up slightly, as if she was going to smile. The reason for the almost-smile was the applause from her classmates with a few people yelling out 'Good on you!' and stuff like that. The reason for that was her recent success in overwhelming their new physics teacher. _"Why, Miss Ventra, isn't that effectively saying that the Mpemba Effect is non-existent?"_

"_Well, no, not exactly."_

_"So what are you trying to say?"_ Magenta enquired. The conversation between them continued in that manner until 'I'm Gay' by Bowling for Soup came on over the speakers in the lab, followed by the computers and lights shutting down and the over-head-"in case of fire"-sprinklers coming on.

As the 12E students drifted outside, a hush fell over the grounds. Most of the school had been waiting eagerly for them to appear and share their tales. When the kids in 10B had heard the not-so-quiet conversation between their teacher and Mrs Dommins, a flurry of texts were discretely sent to friends in both higher and lower grades, even a select few were sent to other schools – one was even sent to an older cousin. And all about the same person. Brendan Connelly appeared with a recording on his phone of that lesson. In a matter of minutes, the phone was hooked up to a laptop and posted on YouTube.

* * *

At "16" years old, Magenta was pretty. There was something odd in her looks that prevented her from being beautiful by human standards. Her IQ was off the charts, but in no way was she a nerd. No, she had flawless white skin, perfectly straight black hair that reached to the bottom of her rib cage and rosy red lips. Some people called her Snow White as a nickname. She had a small, perfectly straight nose, pronounced cheekbones, plump lips that balanced her face perfectly, straight white teeth and eyes that were the perfect distance away from each other. Humans, as dull as they were, couldn't quite perceive her the way the rest of the universe did, but most of them picked up a certain air around her that set her apart. The most intriguing things about her face were her eyes. They were amber-gold with dashes of blue and green running through them like little brooks. But there were very few, they were only really there if you looked really hard. She had a freckle in her left eye, right next to a particularly golden patch. The colour was extraordinary, but not the most amazing part. No, the most intriguing thing about them was the way they swirled when she looked at you. The motion disappeared as soon as you looked closer, but they swirled with energy beyond what humans could comprehend. She always seemed to have what she wanted. You'd think she'd be stuck up with an ego the size of Clom, but no. In reality, just past that pretty, porcelain exterior was a broken girl with a self-esteem in the negatives. Her money, well, that was an illusion. Say she bought a new iPod. She would have got the money from working and selling her old iPod on eBay. If people told her she was beautiful, she would shrug and say 'I'm not as pretty as my sister'. Her friends would tell her she was a genius, and she'd say 'You haven't met my brother.'. She didn't get that her friends didn't just pity her - that they actually liked her. Why? Because of one man. The Doctor.

xXFlashbackXx

_Her first day at secondary school she had shown up alone, going into grade 10. She had taught herself until then. She just walked up in a uniform that was second hand and slightly too big with a completely nondescript black bag hanging off her shoulder. She didn't know anyone. After homeroom, she blindly made her way to her first science class which would lead to a flutter of gossip passing around the class about her. The teacher, Miss Yanardasis, had begun explaining what seemed to her the most simple of chemical reactions and all too soon, she began dozing off. Then something about anaerobic respiration had popped up. And the teacher had got it wrong. So she had put up her hand._

"_Yes Miss... Moncrieff?" She had corrected Miss Yanardasis, leading a few of her classmates to giggle. They had been taught by that teacher the year before and had learned that little old Yani was always right... even if she said the sky was green and water was turquoise. The teacher had replied by reading out a definition in the textbook. It was wrong.  
_

"_Yeah, because if it's in a textbook, it must be true." This response drew murmurs and Magenta got given extra homework. It would have been a simple enough incident if it were any other teacher, but that teacher was coughconstantlycough never wrong. Not even if she had clearly messed up an experiment. That teacher thought herself perfect and no one had ever dared challenge her before._

_Xx Continuing on with the past but jumped forward to the next year Xx  
_

_On the first day of school the next year, she had been put up a grade so she had jumped to grade 12 and was dressed accordingly. She was in an area of London where kids grew up fast and they dressed to show it. She had altered her uniform – the 'regulation black skirt' had been pulled up over her hips to her waist and her 'plain white blouse' was tucked in with her school tie tied loosely around her neck. The effect, of course, was that she looked much older than "15" (well, almost "16" – it was her birthday next week). Some of the 17 year old girls had completely disregarded the rules with black and grey tartan miniskirts and fitted blouses with only half the buttons done up. They probably thought it looked good but really they looked like prostitutes. She passed a group of her classmates on her way to her first class – English. They had Mr Thorsen, a man whom the majority of them loathed vehemently. If you were one of the chosen few he liked, oh, well, good for you. But if you were one the majority he hated... run for cover. He was always running late, then handed out detention if you walked in two seconds after he did. Bloody hypocrite. To make things worse for the rest of them, Mr Thorsen had a son who could say someone looked at him in a belittlingly and the next day, the accused person would be set for detentions for the rest of the semester. Mr Thorsen had it out for Magenta because, even though she had a perfectly good reason, she had refused to go out with his son. She didn't date. Ever. Mr Thorsen's son was aware of the fact and persisted anyway. She had been polite when rejecting him and everything. So one day, when Magenta walked into the classroom straight after him, it was detention! Magenta, being Magenta, didn't go. Everyday of that term, he set her a lunchtime detention to make up for the one she missed. And everday, she didn't go. On the last day of term, Mr Thorsen went to the Headmistress and moved to have her expelled. Unfortunately, under extremely strange circumstances, a list of suspicious websites were visited from Mr Thorsen's computer account. Under the school's computer policy, he was dismissed after eyewittnesses came forward to place him at a computer at the times in which the websites were accessed. No one really noticed that they happened to be some of Magenta's best friends.  
_

_Xx Jumping forward to halfway through that same year Xx  
_

_It was about half way through the same school year that she became fixed in people's minds and not just a passing attraction. Their old Headmistress was an old "vulture", a stickler for the rules and obsessed with keeping 'the old ways' alive. Some kids swore they had seen a whip in her office. Magenta was on stage, being presented with an award for academic excellence. Her skirt had been shortened and pulled high for the 'special occasion' and her shirt untucked. Her tie was hanging around her neck like a scarf. As soon as she has stepped on stage, Ms Whetherbelle, horrified and offended, told her to pull her skirt down. Smirking, Magenta had pulled it down to the point where you could see the red elastic around the top of her underwear. Blushing at the indecency, Ms Whetherbelle demanded she pull them up again. With her smirk still present, Magenta pulled her skirt higher than it had been, revealing that her black stockings were actually 'stay ups'. While still managing some degree of modesty, Magenta walked across the stage like a model, making her high heels evident and somehow the movement had unbuttoned the loosened first few buttons of her blouse. Mrs Whetherbelle had immediately demanded she do them up again. Magenta had stared at her defiantly._

"_Meh, no thanks. I'm fine." She was perfectly aware of the murmurs and whispers coming from the students and onlooking teachers._

"_Miss Moncrieff, I assure you that detention is not as much fun as it sounds."_

"_Oh, I dunno. Seducing horny middle-aged pervs has always been a great pass-time. Mr Dunstan, I'm looking at you." She said with a wink. A wave of laughter came from the students and Mr Dunstan, a fairly popular young teacher, looked bewildered._

"_No, but, I never! I thought you liked me." He said, meaning that he thought he was one of her favourite teachers and that he didn't know why she was doing this. Too bad it sounded extremely suss._

_"Oh, there's a big difference between allowing another to molest ones self and liking a person." Mr Dunstan ran out of the assembly hall. He was, coincidentally, actually a pedophile and had child pornography in his apartment he had to destroy. He was never heard from again._

_xX A few weeks later Xx_

_After Magenta had gone from cautionary tale to absolute legend, she was more out-there. The receptionist had been talking with the tech guys from the company which supplied the PA system for the school. A conversation Magenta (while waiting for a disciplinary conference) had been lucky enough to hear. The guys had told the receptionist to make a recording on the computer of what needed to be said and then hook the whoosy up to the whatsit and voile! A temporary solution until the wiring could be replaced. After school, Magenta had broken in and hooked a 'borrowed' laptop (Ms Whetherbelle's, in fact) up to the school system wirelessly and had told it to play a particular song over the PA system at exactly midday the next day._

_The next day, Magenta had been staring at her watch which she had synchronised to the school computers. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Right on cue, Marilyn Manson's (S)Aint had blared over the speakers, interrupting every class in the whole school. It was too loud to ignore and for some bizarre reason, they were told to go to the school oval for some 'activities'. Neither the teachers or the students could be bothered so they just sat and talked. Well, sort of. Magenta had gone to the roof and got a connection on the 'borrowed' laptop. She then locked the IT guys out of the system and had suspended every account in the school, leaving no way for anyone to stop it. So while Marilyn Manson was going on a continuous loop, she set up a playlist of the most irritating songs she had found. She had a few classical songs which annoyed the students, one called 'Frosty the Pervert' and an entire Cannibal Corpse album ready to go. She wiped it down carefully, even though she had been wearing gloves and a hair net every time she came in contact with it, and left it there. The police arrived due to noise complaints from the neighbors and they had been allowed to go early. It quickly got around that Magenta was responsible and she was celebrated by the students once more. That was when students from other schools began hearing about her. Ms Whetherbelle was forced into not-so-early retirement after a court case involving a particularly unfeeling neighbour of the school.  
_

xXEndFlashback(s)Xx

Those obviously weren't the only incidents, many teachers had been embarrassed and humiliated after being publicly terrorized and the students had loved her for it. Those few teachers she liked were very fortunate people. The staff were torn between amusement and disapproval when it came to her. She was a nice girl, just not the most obedient. The majority of teachers had learned the rules when it came to Magenta – don't piss her off, don't be condescending and, above all, don't be wrong around her. It would only lead to an impossibly logical argument that would wear the opponent down until they gave up. It was only when Mr Gregson had come in the replace Ms Whetherbelle that they had begun betting pools. The students were amused by the way the not-new teachers would interact with her. Like they were trying to befriend her. It was funny because, for all intents and purposes, they _were._

Magenta was walking through the really seedy area of London where she lived in an apartment by herself. It was all that bloody Doctor's fault, really. The guy who owned the apartment block had been left it in his father's will. The current landlord was actually quite rich and let her stay there for free. She actually owned half the apartment she lived in, so he couldn't really toss her out or charge her rent. He payed the bills for her, though and sometimes he would come over for dinner. That was mainly because he was her legal guardian, they were friends and neither one of them really wanted to share a flat. When the Doctor had dumped her on Earth, when she was 15 years old, she really had no idea what she was meant to do. Then, while stumbling around Victorian Era London, trying to put her broken sonic screwdriver back together, a grandfather and his granddaughter had come over to her. Eventually, she had been invited to stay with them after it came clear to the grandfather that she had nowhere else to go. When the grandfather had died later that year, she had been sad, but when his youngest son offered her her own apartment (even though she was only 15), she had been elated. She never liked being dependent. The building had been passed down from generation to generation and had been renovated many times since then. She would leave when she was "21", and would come back in 25 years claiming to be her own orphaned daughter. The current owner was 18, and a bit lost when it came management, so she helped him out. Now she had enough money to buy her own place between the repaired screwdriver's use on a few ATM's and saved tips from her job. The landlord had too much of a moral compass to let her do that. Instead, he let her buy _half _of it but continued to take care of the other finances for her. While musing on the subject, she had failed to notice the footsteps behind her. It was only when the footsteps grew closer that she noticed them. They sounded like a clumsy oaf trying to be stealthy. She whipped around to see a creepy, drugged-up looking guy dressed all in black take out a knife and reach for her. She began running but her 'school heels' made her trip in a rare display of clumsiness.

"Money, valuables, anything. Give it here." When she didn't move, he pressed the blade against her throat. He was scared, jittery and just wanted to get out of there. "NOW!" She picked up her bag, pulled out her wallet, handed it to him, then dug through her bag, looking for something else.

"Hang on, I've got a Rolex in here somewhere." The man looked at her strangely before collapsing on the ground in pain. She had drawn a taser and sent the electricity through a rather... tender area. She claimed her purse, picked up her bag, then began calmly walking away. Just before she got out of range, the man had picked up the knife and threw it at her back – right in the middle. She didn't stop. She was almost at the apartment block before she paused to pull the knife out awkwardly. Magenta walked in the door, careful not to let any blood spill. She walked up the stairs to the third floor and let herself in. She collapsed on the couch with her back facing the ceiling. The back of her shirt had been stained scarlet, but she didn't worry. The pain became immaterial as she tried to remember everything she knew about what was about to happen. Her senses went into overload as she tried as hard as she could to focus on her own image, apparently this particular ability was utilised most easily for females. She just kept imagining what she saw in the mirror every morning. Golden light issued from everywhere, extraordinary amounts of energy being let out of her body. As it died away, Magenta fought to keep consciousness – she had to know if it had worked. She stumbled clumsily around the lounge room to the bathroom. She closed her eyes just before stepping in front of the mirror, not sure what she would do if it hadn't worked. She opened her eyes and let out a sigh of relief. She looked exactly the same... almost. Her eyelashes were longer and thicker, no biggie. She quickly stripped down to her underwear to see if everything else was the same. It looked like a tattoo of an Asian symbol had somehow made it's way onto her hip and she thought she was a bit taller. Her body couldn't take much more though, she only just made it to the bed before she collapsed. What, like 200 years in the same form and _now_ she regenerates? How unfair was that?

Author's Notes: Well? What did you think? I wasn't even alive when the old series were airing so this is what I'm gathering from Wikipedia and me just being bored and deciding to make up a few things. Also, I know a few things probably seem a bit inconsistent, like her mentioning siblings but living alone. Again, everything will become clear as the story unfolds. Sorry, my science teacher kept saying that when we were doing forensics. I couldn't resist making fun of her. Yeah, um, please feel free to tell me how much I suck. Or do me a favour and tell me what you didn't like about it. Please.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: This is the new version of chapter 2. Again, I haven't paused for reviews or whatever to know if you're receptive to the idea or not... which was probably my down falling the first and second times I did this... oh well.

Disclaimer: A disclaimer disclaims. I'm sure you can figure it out.

Martha was thrown against the console violently – that was gonna leave a bruise. Something was flashing on one of the monitors, which the Doctor grabbed, reading the unknown symbols frantically.

"No, no, no, no, no. Impossible." There was a pause, like someone was talking to him. "Are you sure?" There was another pause. "But there can't be." Without him touching anything, the TARDIS lurched violently, making it obvious they had changed flight paths.

"Doctor? What's happening?" She asked, trying desperately to grip onto the edge of the console.

"The TARDIS – she thinks there's another Timelord regenerating." He picked up a rubber mallet and began hitting the console. "No, no, no, no, no." He chanted while bashing away.

"But that's good, isn't it?" She asked, confused. For a brief second, he looked her in the eye. He was unreadable, as always. Then he looked away and continued abusing his ship. Something on the monitor got his attention, though, and he looked startled for a second before stepping away from the console and letting the TARDIS do what she wanted. They landed with a bump.

"We're in London, it's the 2nd of March, 2007." He read out to her. "You could visit your mother if you want." He ran out of the TARDIS, obviously expecting her to follow him blindly. He knew her too well. When she caught up to him, he had the sonic screwdriver out, and was walking steadily.

"I'm getting a signal." He explained. "There's a massive amount of energy floating around. And it seems to be coming from... that way." He began running, eager to find the power source. She followed him, his excitement was catching. He stopped short again. The Doctor was standing completely still, he didn't even look like he was breathing. He recognised this place, but she didn't. It was obviously a council estate, a fairly average one with nothing particularly distinctive about it. He was staring at the door of one flat in particular. He swallowed hard when a young girl and her mother came out of it. The little girl was a brunette and her mother was a peroxide blonde. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but decided against it.

"Doctor?" He looked at her, "What is this place?"

"The Powell Estate. It's... the Powell Estate. And the signal's coming from somewhere on the other side of it." He put on his happy-go-lucky facade and began walking quickly through the estate. He was always blocking her out and _god_ it was annoying.

* * *

The morning after her first regeneration, Magenta donned her school uniform, leaving her long hair down and wearing the clothes Kelly Jones style (Head girl in St Trinian's). She had been unconscious for most of the night and hadn't done her homework, but that was okay. The teachers knew she knew this stuff – they also knew she would terrorise them if they called her up on it.

xXFLASHBACKXx

_She was just beginning to get her reputation the first time she forgot to do her homework. Their teacher was an uptight prick to the girls and a bit overly friendly to the guys – he wasn't a pervert, he was just misogynistic. _

"_Well, well Magenta. Didn't you understand it? It's okay, you're a girl." He said, patronisingly. The class leaned forward in anticipation._

"_Mr Lefcourt, yeah actually, I didn't understand it. You're right, it probably was because I'm a girl. Education is for men." She said sincerely, shocking her classmates. Brendan Connelly, who had been messing around on his phone, almost dropped it. "You know what else I don't understand? I don't get why you're cheating on your wife with Mrs McDonald. I mean, I've heard from Mr Gregson that your wife's a real looker. Apparently she's a good dancer, too. I've never seen her personally, though. I'm not into watching women peel away their clothes while dancing around a pole for a bunch of old, well, a bunch of old people like _you_."_

xXBACKTOTHEPRESENTXx

Magenta was halfway to school when a golden stream of light issued from her mouth. Something must have gone wrong – she couldn't remember reading about anything like that happening. Maybe she woke up too early. She should probably go home. Magenta decided against it, wanting to see if people could notice the subtle differences. She rocked up to her locker, where a bunch of her friends were waiting.

"Hey, Snow White." Sylvie greeted her. "Did you get new shoes?" Magenta nodded. _Well, that's the height._

"Are you wearing mascara or something?" Lauren asked.

"Yeah." _That's the lashes._

"Did you get more hot overnight?" Logan, who was the closest thing to a boyfriend Magenta had ever had, asked.

"Oh, you know me. I get sexier with each passing day." She winked at him and grinned, letting her tongue slip to the corner of her mouth coyly. Her friends seemed shocked. "What?" She asked, surprised.

"That's the first time I've seen you smile in... forever." Logan informed her. "Actually, you look like my cousin's ex-girlfriend."

"Right." She drew out the 'I', "That'd be one of Jimmy's girlfriends, then." Logan nodded.

"R-" The rest of the name was drowned out by the bell, "I think her name was. See you later." Logan disappeared with Lauren to go to English while Sylvie walked with Magenta to Physics. There wasn't a teacher there.

"You think that chick from yesterday quit?" Brendan asked them after no one had appeared for 5 minutes.

"Wouldn't surprise me." Magenta commented, pleased at the prospect of having no teacher for that lesson.

* * *

Martha was running all out to keep up with the Doctor. As soon as they had got past the Powell Estate, he had broken out into a sprint, leading them into an even more dodgy-looking area. They stopped when they reached an apartment block that looked slightly more decent than the rest of the area. Something flashing in the sun caught Martha's eye, which turned out to be a bloody knife, which she pointed out to the Doctor.

"Doctor, look." She gestured to the knife. To her surprise, he bent down, picked it up and sniffed it.

"I think whoever's blood this is..." He licked it. "Yep, definitely Gallifreyan." This inspired him to keep tracking the energy with his screwdriver up three flights of stairs. They reached a door, which the Doctor tried to open with the sonic screwdriver. "Whoever lives here is smart." He commented. "Double deadlock sealed – alien tech. But, the first lock is human, shouldn't be too hard..." He grinned and rummaged in his coat pocket for a few seconds and pulled out two paper clips. "Wanna learn how to pick a lock?" He asked. After using the wire to unlock the first lock, the second alien lock could easily be broken by the screwdriver. They walked in tentatively and took in their surroundings. The flat was neat but homey. A white suede sofa and two matching armchairs provided seating in the lounge room in front of a large TV with a fireplace in the left wall. The flooring to the whole apartment was white tiling, except in the singular bedroom, where white carpet took it's place. The flat only had three doors leading off from the main area. The main area was made up of the lounge room and a small kitchen, which was immaculately kept. To the left was the bedroom with a large bed covered in a matching scarlet duvet-and-pillow set. There were black silk sheets underneath and white curtains – infact, almost everything about everywhere was white. The bathroom was through the middle door, which was also white. It was also the only room where things looked messy – like whoever lived here had been in a rush. Crumpled on the floor in front of a full-length mirror was a girl's school uniform. The black skirt and tie had been tossed to the side, but the white fitted blouse lay on the floor directly in front of the mirror. The sight of it alarmed her – there was dried blood all over it, and a tear in the middle of the back.

"Doctor!" She yelled out and he came running in.

"What? What is it?"

"Look at that." She pointed to the strewn-about uniform. "Looks like whoever we're looking for is a schoolgirl." He picked up the blouse, sniffed it, then licked it.

"Yep, the same blood, definitely." He clenched it tightly in one hand. "Do you think she lives alone?"

"Yeah, probably." The Doctor left and went into the bedroom. "Oi, Martha! There's a photo album in here!" She quickly re-entered the bedroom, feeling slightly odd for invading someone else's privacy. He was sitting in the middle of the bed, his brown coat and blue suit working in surprisingly well with the red duvet. He patted the space next to him, keeping the book open at the first page. There was a picture of a girl in the middle of the page, almost but not quite smiling. Underneath it, was a caption saying 'Magenta Moncrieff. If you're some random weirdo who finds this and wants to stalk me, please don't. I'm messed up enough as it is.' on the next page, a group of smiling kids in their early teens with a caption saying 'Lauren, Sylvie, Logan, Brendan, Sophie, Jack and Ebony.' Pictures of both the same and different people getting older followed, with some singles, couples, groups and even a few class photos thrown in. There was a beautifully decorated plain white page which obviously signified a change in sections halfway through the book. The background was a plain white, the calligraphic writing was black and there was a red ribbon threaded around the page – Martha was sensing a theme to this girl developing. The writing was made of familiar symbols, which Martha knew but didn't understand.

"That's Gallifreyan, isn't it?" She asked softly, gazing at the Doctor's hopeful face.

"Yeah, but it's strange. This is Old High Gallifreyan, only important members of society knew how to write this way – most of the people wrote in Low Gallifreyan. Whoever this girl is – she was important." He turned the page and Martha gasped. It was the Doctor, the 10th Doctor, looking about five or ten years older than he did now. He was at... a beach? In his suit. He was smiling happily at the camera with two toddlers sitting in his lap. One was a pretty blonde girl, the other was a cute brunette boy. Their facial features were fairly similar, except more masculine or feminine. They were both wearing cute little matching swimwear. The shot was a bit broad, showing a young girl with straight black hair, perfectly white skin and blood red lips sitting next to a large sand castle, looking dejected a few meters to the left of them. The sand castle was just that – a sand castle. It looked like the Walt Disney castle, made to a scale where the little girl could probably sit inside it if she wanted to.

"I'm gonna check around the place again, try and find a phone number or something." The Doctor said, sounding bewildered and handed her the photo album before leaving.

On the other side of the page was writing in English.

_That day he took us to a beach in Australia, Earth. It was called Sunshine Beach on the Sunshine Coast. Well, it _would_ be called that in another few hundred years when white settlers had found it. There was no one else there – just _him, _Allie and James. And me, of course. I spent hours and hours working on this stupid sandcastle, he didn't offer to help. But that was okay, Allie and Jamie wanted to go swimming and he couldn't let them go on their own. I got that. So I thought I'd just show it to him later when he wasn't as busy, thinking that maybe for one he'd actually... I dunno. Anyway, so lunchtime rocks up, right, we had a picnic. Well, they had a picnic, I just sat there and looked at the food, mentally keeping a tally of how many of the foods I liked compared to how many the twins liked. It was like, 0 to 12. Anyway. So he had a self timing camera out and was reading the manual when I asked him what he thought of my sandcastle. Without looking up, he just said "That's nice. Don't get sand on the camera." Anyway, so I thought he was probably just busy with the camera, so I waited awhile and helped Allie and James with their sandcastles, which were pretty much buckets of sand turned upside-down. So he finally gets the camera thing set up and calls over the twins. He didn't call me over, so I just sat there, listening to him speak._

"_Now, we're gonna have a nice family photo, remember to smile.". I was 5 years old._

Martha felt her throat close up and tears spring to her eyes. She didn't know why she felt so bad for this girl, but the story was just so sad. On the next page was a picture of the Doctor with the same boy and girl, slightly older, in a park somewhere with the black-haired girl nowhere in sight. She turned over to the next page and found more writing.

_We were on Gallackfeneltundra, a fairly nice planet... a few millenia after we visited. I dunno what it is with him and picnics, but he packed another one. You know what's funny is that it was my 7th birthday and he went there because he thought the twins might like it. He packed a cake in there, but he hadn't made an indication as to if he remembered my birthday, so I asked why it was there._

"_I thought it would be nice for the twins." Was his answer._

"_That's so nice of you." I said really, really sarcastically. He just smiled and said:_

"_They deserve something good once in awhile." I wanted to scream at him. They did nothing all day but look cute and be stupid. They did nothing to deserve anything. I, on the other hand, spent my days studying, reading, helping him repair the TARDIS, just whatever. I _worked. _And I was 7, mind you. So not only has he completely forgotten my birthday, he's turned this day into 'Let's Celebrate Two Complete Idiots' day. Meanwhile, the twins were sitting there drawing unidentifyible messes with disturbingly bright coloured crayons saying stupid things like 'Why aren't there any birds, daddy?' My GOD!! Anyway. So I went back into the TARDIS, picked up my art stuff and went back outside. I was sitting under a tree, sketching the general area, you know. I was in full sight of him, although he was too preoccupied by being a complete prick to pay any attention to me. There were two men who just came along and dragged me away. I was screaming my head off and the **Bastard** just goes 'I'll be there in a minute.'. Yeah. Nice. So they drugged me and when I woke up, I was in a cage. Yeah, a cage. There were some older women there, the second youngest looked about 13 and the oldest about 40. So I ask them where I am._

"_You're going to be sold." The 13 year old sneers._

"_Stop it." Another said to her._

"_As a sex slave. We all are." The 13 year old continued. So while the **Bastard** was eating cake, I was gonna be sold to some perverted 40 year old. Nice work. After a few hours, the **Bastard **came and bought me. So when we get back to the TARDIS he apologises _to freaking Allie(!!)_ and completely ignores me. I could hear him._

"_I'm sorry I put you in danger, Allie. Are you sure you're alright?" Later that night, I finished my picture from memory and took it to him._

"_Daddy-" _

"_Magenta, how many time do I have to tell you not to call me that?" He was right though, he's not my father. Not biologically or anything._

"_I'm sorry, Doctor."_

"_That's better." I handed him the picture. He might as well have tore it in half and asked "What the hell is that meant to be?". No, really he just glanced at it and said "Practice makes perfect, so just keep practising." I don't know if he meant to encourage me or something, but I cried myself to sleep. But now that I think about it, I probably should have wondered so far away. He's always telling the twins not to wander off, so I guess it was kind of my fault._

On the next page was a glued-in pastel drawing, which Martha assumed was the picture from the story. It was perfect. In every way. It looked like a photograph, and the scene couldn't have been more beautiful. It was of a freshwater spring – the bubbling water was dappled by shade provided by a canopy made of small trees. Martha had no idea what made her keep going, even though she could hear the Doctor coming closer. On the next page, a picture of the Doctor and who she assumed were an older Allie and James in front of a Christmas tree. The black haired girl wasn't in this picture either. True to form, there was a story written on the next page.

_I was 15, almost 16, and I was getting ready for secondary school. It was my Christmas gift. The Doctor said my Christmas present would be being allowed to go to a normal school. To tell the truth, I didn't want to have an Earth education for education, I wanted to get away from him. Anyway. It was Christmas, and Allie and James were 13 – older than I was when I was taken by those men. Somehow, I don't think they would have had my problem because the **Bastard** would have kept and eye on _them_. He had been a part of my life for as long as I could remember – he was never clear on how he got me. I'm not biologically related to him, I'm an experiment, that's all he ever told me. I don't know... Anyway, it was Christmas Day in the TARDIS, and Allie and James were sorting through their presents. I had a second hand uniform and a book pack for a comprehensive school in a dodgy part of London, but that was okay. It was more than I expected. Allie had my sonic screwdriver (which I had built myself with spare parts) and had snapped it. Skill. So I disappeared for awhile, trying to fix it. It wasn't really her fault – I hadn't explained not to be too rough. So when I got back, they'd started and finished Christmas dinner without me. That was my fault though, I didn't tell him when I'd be back._

It was becoming increasingly obvious that this girl blamed herself for the Doctor's misdeeds.

_I wandered back into the Christmas room just in time to see the **Bastard** giving them all he had left of our mother's. He gave Allie her necklace and said she could have her room and he gave Jamie her TARDIS key. I got angry. I don't know what happened next. I remember singing... and lots of gold light. I remember Allie and James screaming their heads off and the Doctor yelling at me and I still don't know why. Before I knew it, he had thrown me out into Victorian London with my books and uniform. I was 15 and I'm about 200 now. _

Martha's eyebrows shot up. 200 years old. What could have possibly happened to make the Doctor so cruel towards a child.

_I still haven't heard from him. Or Allie. Or James. And I'm glad because I hate him. God, I hate him. When I was two and he and 'mum' sat me down and told me I'd have a little 'brother' and 'sister', I was happy. So when they said they'd be busy but that didn't mean they'd love me less, I though 'Fine, I just have to remember that when they're older, things will be back to normal.'. Yeah, uh, I never thought that 'mum' would die in childbirth and that the expected drop in attention would be neglect._

The Doctor was at the door, watching as Martha thumbed desperately through the pages. She was scanning story after story, photo after photo and getting more and more tearful at what the Doctor had done to this little girl.

"Martha?" He asked, concerned at her distress.

"Do you know her?" Her voice was frosty.

"Sorry?"

"The girl – Magenta. Do you know her?" Martha hadn't changed her cold tone.

"No. I think I meet her later, it's dangerous to know too much about the future." Martha just nodded, choking back tears. She got off the bed, still carrying the photo album. Just before they left, she put the album on the coffee table and left with him, still trying to suppress her sadness. They were walking in silence, made even more awkward by the constant buzzing of the sonic screwdriver.

"Aha!" The Doctor cried triumphantly, "When a Timelord regenerates they produce huge amounts of energy! Sometimes the residual cellular energy is too much to be contained and it just has to be released, so the Timelord just breathes it out, BUT this girl – she doesn't know what's happening, she's probably confused. We've gotta find her, come on! Come on!" He'd slipped into manic I-just-had-an-epiphany-and-need-to-share mode.

Magenta and her class mates were half-way through the teacherless lesson when a man in a pinstripe suit appeared with a young woman not that much older than them.

"Good afternoon." The man began cheerfully, oblivious to the anger radiating from one particular girl in the classroom. "My name is Mister Smith, and I am your new physics teacher. I've only worked as a physics teacher once before, my school blew up and I never wanted to try it again." The last sentence drew scattered laughter. "And this is my teaching assistant, Miss Jones." He gestured to Martha.

"Hello." She stepped forward nervously.

"You suck so badly you need an assistant to teach?" Brendan Connelly yelled out, getting laughter from everyone but the one girl he really wanted it from. That wasn't because Magenta wouldn't have found it funny, it was because she had disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Author's Notes: How's it going? This is an edited version of the first third chapter.

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Any similarities to any characters or story lines owned by the BBC are probably intentional.

* * *

Magenta slipped out of the room while **the Bastard** was speaking. In took her all of 5 seconds to figure out that this wasn't the **Bastard** who had left her, he looked too young. But that didn't stop it from hurting.

"Well, that was a waste." Martha muttered after the lesson had ended. They had followed the trail to a high school, where the students had helpfully directed them to the office, where the Doctor had been offered a job, no questions asked. It was strange, to say the least, and even stranger when the Headmaster had eagerly assumed she was at uni, learning how to teach with no encouragement or suggestion from either of them. Strange.

"No, not at all, isn't it fun to share the knowledge of the universe with the youth-" He cut himself off at Martha's look.

"Could you, I dunno, sense her or something?" Martha asked, waiting for him to pack up all his textbooks and teaching aides.

"Well, for a second I thought someone was in the room. It was really weird though, I couldn't sense her, and I'm assuming it's a her, but she was there at the same time. No, no, no. That was a really bad explanation. When my people were all there, it was like when you were with someone, you could see them and feel their presence as well as feel their mind sort of sit next to yous. But with her, it was like she was there, I knew she was there, but I couldn't feel her mind. Maybe we were wrong, maybe the TARDIS picked up someone from before the war, I dunno. But she disappeared, half a minute after I started talking, she disappeared."

"There was a girl, in the back of the class, she was there when we walked in, but not while you were teaching. I think she was the girl in the photo album." Martha offered helpfully.

"You mean the photo album that brought you to tears?" Martha looked embarrassed and blushed. "Don't worry about it, once my companion's boyfriend let her know he'd been cheating on her with, what was her name? Trisha something. Anyway, I ended up being her personal slave for the rest of the week to stop her from salvaging the relationship." Martha looked at him like he was insane. "What? I didn't like the guy, I used to call him Mickey the Idiot. She deserved much better."

"Someone like you, perhaps?" Martha teased.

"Yep." The Doctor replied, cheerfully popping the 'p'.

* * *

"Where'd you go?" Brendan asked Magenta, sliding down into the cheap plastic cafeteria chair next to her.

"Never mind that," Lauren interrupted, "Why'd you go?" Magenta stared at them for a moment, deliberating how to modify her history-that-hasn't-yet-happened with the new teacher.

"That man, the new teacher, was a... friend of mine," She paused. _I think I just threw up a little in my mouth._ "When I was little. I used to call him 'Uncle John', but I hadn't heard from him in a few years and, um, the last memory I have of him isn't a very fond one."

"What? Did he hurt you or something?" Lauren asked, concerned.

"If he hurt you I'll hunt him down and-" Brendan began, cutting himself off when Magenta narrowed her eyes.

"Nah, s'nuffin like that." Magenta looked alarmed at her momentary change in accent. Her usually perfect 'upper class' sort of accent had turned cockney just for a second, producing a 's'nuffin' from her, which was made even more strange by the fact that English wasn't even her first language. "That was weird. Anyway, he threw me out... basically." Before anyone could threaten him more, she got up. "Yeah, I'm gonna go home, but tell anyone who asks to 'wait and see'." She winked. "It makes everything more fun." She walked off, no one bothering her on her way out.

* * *

She had just got everything she needed from her locker when she sighed and closed her eyes, unwittingly releasing some pent-up residual energy. Magenta just kept shoving stuff in her bag before leaving, making sure to pass by the office and say 'bye' to the receptionist. When she got home, she lay down on her couch and closed her eyes. She found it hard to believe that less than 24 hours ago, someone had stabbed her, leading to her regeneration and probably to her near-miss with _him_. She opened her eyes and frowned. She didn't think her photo album had been on the coffee table this morning. She shrugged it off and picked it up, pulling it onto her lap. Magenta flipped to the second section of it, dug her home-made sonic screwdriver out of her bag and used it to unstick the pages from the adhesive keeping them in there. She spread out the written-on pages and photos out but kept the spares in a pile. She wanted to chronological-ise it and add some more pages. Disappearing into the bedroom, she brought a strange device out. It was like a helmet made of metal, basically, with wires attaching to a Polaroid camera. It was something she'd built a few years ago when she'd started her second section to the album, which basically allowed her to focus on a moment in time, picture and remember it in her mind, then press the button on the camera, and it would take the picture of the frame in her mind. Some of the photos she'd had on her for various reasons, but most of them were mind-shots. She sat back down on the couch and as the paper moved, her heightened senses picked up on a scent that shouldn't be there. Hang on, make that two. One of them she recognised as the Doctor's the other was young, feminine. Maybe that other woman who'd been with him? _Wait a minute._ She thought and practically ran back to bedroom. Her usually meticulously made bed was rumpled, like someone/s had been lying or sitting on it. She dashed back to front door and examined her locks. One had been picked and the other had been sonicked. Damn. The Doctor had been here, the _bastard._

* * *

The Doctor and Martha had found their way to the staffroom, where all the other teachers had gathered, and a sadistic old crone from the English department was trying to cover up the evidence of any and all bets placed.

"So," The Headmaster, Mr Gregson, began cheerfully, "how'd it go?"

"It was fine." The Doctor replied vaguely while Martha said nothing. The other teachers looked shocked.

"No troubles at all?" Mr Gregson seemed almost disappointed while a few of the others looked pleased.

"No." The Doctor replied suspiciously. "Should there have been?"

"No," Mr Gregson looked depressed. "None at all." He turned away, digging out his wallet and handing 10 quid to a sadistic English crone. The Doctor still looked suspicious, but left with Martha after not feeling anyone anyway. Now back in the hallway, the Doctor was discretely trying to get some sort of trace. All of a sudden, the pitch of the humming screwdriver changed, signifying that more of the 'residual cellular energy' had been released. Unfortunately for them and fortunately for Magenta, as they were sprinting "inconspicuously" to get to her locker, she had already got her stuff and was walking down the stairwell which was crowded with students. So by the time Martha and the Doctor had gotten there, Magenta was gone and her trail had been corrupted by the milling students in the stairwell.

Martha and the Doctor were sitting in the cafeteria, chatting idly when the doors slammed open and students and teachers alike jumped in surprise. The figure in the doorway was obscured by the angle at which Martha was sitting, but by the expression on the Doctor's face, she was willing to bet it was the rogue Gallifreyan. The students were silent and most of the teachers scurried away. As soon as they were gone, the room was still. The silence was punctuated by the click-clacking of high heels. As the clicking got closer, the students moved away but stayed in the room. The atmosphere was so tense that Martha felt as though she had forgotten how to breathe. The girl was in full sight now, she was recognizably the girl from the photo album, in both sections. She sat down at their table and the room seemed to gasp. The girl lent forward and rested an elbow on the table, supporting her chin with her hand. All of a sudden, she grinned manically and awkwardly hugged the Doctor across the table.

"Johnny!" She exclaimed loudly. "How's it going?" Martha didn't know how to react, but as the other occupants of the cafeteria lent forward, she got the impression she should expect something. "You know," She continued, "you didn't need to break into my flat to get a look at my bedroom." The Doctor was astounded, both by her display and implications.

"Um, who are you?"

"John, really. I know you're old, but I didn't think you'd be having senior moments _just_ yet." The Doctor didn't know how to react. All of a sudden, the resounding slap of flesh hitting flesh resounded around in the silence. The Doctor was holding his cheek.

"Oi! What was the for?"

"That was for moving on so fast from Rose. You remember her, right? Oh yeah, and" She slapped him again. "That was for picking up Donna." She slapped him again. "That was for picking up Martha, no offense." She slapped him one more time. "That was in Jackie's honour for trapping her." She paused and looked around the room. "Gosh, these people really have no lives, do they? Oh well, so I'm gonna drop by... what's it called again? That strip club you frequent? Boys Gone Wild? Anyway, I'll be there later if you'd like to talk about our situation." She casually drummed on her stomach. "See you later." She pranced off to sit at another table and very calmly started a conversation with the people sitting there. The very few teachers who hadn't retreated to the staffroom hurried out, quickly followed by a confused Doctor and an angry Martha. The students started giggling and laughing, a few of them applauded. The people Magenta had sat with had no idea why she was sitting with them or why she looked so stormy, but one timid girl asked "You're not pregnant are you?" (A/N That line break isn't meant to be there but I can't get rid of it.)

* * *

Magenta looked at her and replied, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Yeah, actually I am. I've never had sex with him yet somehow, _somehow, _I'm gonna have his baby. So yes, absolutely." She left, still angry and out for some Timelord blood.

As soon as they were out of the cafeteria, Martha exploded with angry questions, her jealousy overwhelming sense.

"Who is she? Who the hell was Donna? And Jackie? And your 'situation'? What's that? Boys Gone Wild? _What the hell was she talking about_?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" He screamed at her. "I just," He said quieter, and paused, "I just don't know." He looked really sad. "I finally found another one and it's clear she doesn't want anything to do with me." The doors they had just come out of clicked open, and Martha realised how public they were. She looked at whoever had just joined them and was greeted by the strange girl who may or may not be Gallifreyan. All three were silent while the girl and the Doctor eyed each other off. Finally, she sighed.

"I'm..." She opened and closed her mouth, trying to find put together what she wanted to say. "I suppose I'm kinda sorry. You shouldn't be here, not for another 17 or 18 years. I'm guessing the TARDIS picked up on my regeneration?" The Doctor nodded mutely, like a petulant child refusing to speak to his mother in protest. "That shouldn't have happened, you won't even know me for at least another 3 years." When neither the Doctor nor Martha said anything, she apologised again. "I really am sorry but you and I don't get on very well, Theta." The Doctor's eyes bored into hers.

"How'd you know my old nickname?" He asked suspiciously.

"I know a lot, Doctor, I just did that to get a reaction." She grinned cheekily.

"You look familiar." The Doctor remarked.

"Yeah, well, aparently I look like my mother when I smile." She shook hands with the Doctor, then with Martha. "I'm Magenta."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes: How's it going? This has been edited. Not that it'll mean much to you if this is the first time you've read it. Huh. Oh well.

Martha and the Doctor sat side-by-side on the couch in Magenta's apartment, both with cups of tea in their hands and both being observed by Magenta, who sat in an armchair across from them. Martha was studying the almost unnatural contrast between Magenta's ivory skin and pitch black hair and blood red lips. Like Snow White. At a first glance, Magenta looked completely human but the longer you looked, the more alien she appeared. Her unnatural colouring, the strange swirling in her eyes, the expressions she carried on her face, and the way she spoke like a normal teenager while discussing the most extraordinary of things. Right now, for instance, the Doctor and her were talking about some complicated science involved in a mind-camera thing.

"That's impressive." The Doctor complimented when Magenta finished her explanation.

"Thanks." She sounded suspicious, like she was waiting for some suggestion for improvement. When she received none, her narrowed eyes returned to normal and she stood up, gesturing for them to follow her. The middle door of the apartment, which neither the Doctor nor Martha had checked out in their first perusal of the flat, led to a music room. A gleaming black piano stood against the back wall of the room, a harp to it's left and shelves of instruments to the right. Literally shelves. There were normal shaped cases that looked like stringed instruments and woodwind, but then there were uncovered instruments as well which were completely alien. Martha's eyes were drawn to a small silver thing, a bit smaller than a dinner plate, which was glowing suspiciously.

"Ah yes, I know they're pretty, but this," Magenta gestured to a door on the left wall of the room, "This is what you want to see."

Machines. Heaps and heaps of alien machines.

"That one I built. That one I built. That one I repaired. That one I nicked from Van Statten. That one I got from Torchwood. That's UNIT's. That's mine. I salvaged that." Magenta was pointed to various bits of technology, pointing out which ones she got from where. They were all very, very different but they all had one thing in common. They were alien. Except for two things. A rubix cube, which the Doctor had picked up from the workbench with a questionable look.

"Sumscitedian explosive – highly volatile and there's enough of that stuff to blow up a planet." Magenta plucked it out of his hand and set it down gently on the bench. "So don't touch. Be grateful it's me that's got it and not one of those idiot organisations designed to kill any aliens they happen to come across that has it." The second not-alien thing was a pile of black leather on the workbench next to the rubix cube. The Doctor had moved onto it now, picking up a piece of it up.

"What's this? It looked like," He paused, examining it more closely, "a leather mini-skirt." Magenta laughed and Martha looked disturbed.

"It's battle armour." The Doctor looked at her strangely while Martha scoffed in disbelief. Before any coherent response could be made, a bell clanged loudly.

"Pre-emptive cloister bell. Warns me of paradoxes. You should leave. Unless you particularly want to be devoured by a reaper or have the universe split apart." Magenta sounded disappointed, like it was ruining her fun. The bell was ringing more violently now, and the room had been plunged into red light.

"YOU! RUN! NOW!" Magenta yelled, and the Doctor and Martha didn't hesitate. They sprinted through the Powell Estate back to the TARDIS. The Doctor practically threw the TARDIS into flight, trying to prevent the apocalypse. Back in her apartment, Magenta laughed.

Cardiff Torchwood Base, 2007

Toshiko Sato looked alarmed at the alert on the computer. The Torchwood in London was still recuperating and their technology had picked up on a huge energy spike in London, but because of the damage sustained in the Battle of Canary Wharf, they couldn't pin-point a location. Torchwood Cardiff had been sent a message, being asked to investigate.

"Jack?" She called out to her leader. "We have to go to London."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Notes: Sorry to those of you who don't watch Torchwood. Basically (and I'm not sure) this is set in the first season somewhere. Tosh (Toshiko) is an Asian woman, complete genius, has a crush on Owen but he doesn't pay any attention. Gwen is very Welsh, is having an affair with Owen (she's cheating on her boyfriend). Owen enjoys sex. A lot. Sleeping with Gwen, he was the one who suggested the arrangement. Ianto is the 'tea boy', who cleans up Torchwood's messes. He is sleeping with Jack. And Jack... well, he's not nearly as flirty, a lot more angsty and next-to-no patience or mercy. But we do have those pure 'Jack' moments that shine through sometimes. To sum up Torchwood 'Welsh, gay, alien sex.' (that's a direct quote from Magenta herself). I know some people who have this story on their alerts and since alerts only show new chapters, you might wanna re-read it from the beginning coz I made some changes and replaced the last 4 chapters.

Jack glared in the direction of his team. Once Tosh had pin-pointed the address of the surges, Jack realised no matter what they did, it wouldn't amount to anything. He had recognised the address instantly. In 1957, he had spent seven weeks constantly watching the apartment block, but everyone who passed in or out registered as human. In 1957, he had moved from Cardiff Torchwood to London Torchwood for a few months, due to a lack of leadership in London Torchwood. A strange medical case had shown up – Caucasian female admitted with shot wounds to the abdomen. The doctors operating could work with the alien biology enough to save the young woman, but there were organs in places they shouldn't be, more than the normal amount of hearts and a dangerously low average temperature. The small group of people who had come in with the woman had provided residential information which Torchwood had grabbed and followed up on. So now, 50 years later, Jack found himself watching his team eat Big Macs while glaring at them angrily across the table.

It was later in the evening now, clouds and smog obscuring the sun while it went down as the Torchwood team watched the apartment block. He watched a pale-skinned girl with dark hair walk out.

"Human." Tosh announced. A boy around the same age followed her out. "He's human, too." Jack watched on as the boy tried to grab the girl's arm, only to have her yank it out of his reach. The girl walked away from him quickly, before unlocking and getting into a blue Mazda 3. As the car drew away, the boy kicked the side of the building, before hopping around in pain, which drew laughter from the people watching him. Scowling, he walked away.

Early into the A.M., the team were talking casually, when the pale girl returned, this time with her hair swept up into a cap. She looked around before getting out the key for the door. Her eyes locked onto the black SUV across the road, before shaking her head and going into the building.

"Tomorrow we'll see about a flat or at least some form of more permanent accommodation near here."

"Why? We have the scanner, it'll show up any aliens or alien tech." Gwen asked. Jack chuckled.

* * *

"Last time I was here, I spent 7 weeks waiting for something, anything remotely alien to appear. I gave up and went home. The end." (A/N That paragraph separator thing is in the wrong place. Sorry)

Magenta watched her new neighbours move stuff from their car to the flat next to hers. She would watch from the windows for awhile, then look through the hole in her door. One of the men she recognised from the god-awful time in 1957. She had spent 7 weeks trapped in her own home. At least he had given up this time, but with the amount of boxes they seemed to be moving, that didn't seem likely. Her school day hadn't been very eventful. She had managed to avoid Logan and she didn't feel like terrorising anybody, or planning any pranks, because of the pre-emptive cloister bell. She had a feeling that the Doctor, the Doctor who had created her, would be coming back, and she couldn't concentrate on anything else. Well, apart from Logan, the bastard had the nerve to come to her home the night before, just before she was leaving for work (at a nightclub), and preposition her. Ew. At least work had been a bit better, her bouncer-friends were relatively amusing, and the boss had let her wear a new uniform that wasn't nearly as stripper-like. The downside was that the new uniform was black leather. Shame, that. On her next trip to the window, she noticed that the sunset was very bright, and not obscured by any of the usual smog or blocked by the London skyline. Strange, but pretty. If she was superstitious, she would say something was coming. She gathered her work uniform, cap she wore home, mobile and purse, which she shoved in a bag and then left. As the fading sunlight hit her face, she could feel the pigments in her skin react. She pulled a piece of her hair into her direct line of vision. Dark brown, not the usual black. She looked at her hand, it had a light tan instead of the usual snowy white.

* * *

After work, Magenta was just about to leave when she realised she hadn't put her cap on. Tonight, she didn't feel like worrying anymore. She didn't even bother checking for people watching before stepping out into the unusually clear, bright moonlight. Her white skin took on a silvery look, her lips changed from red to pale, shimmery pink, and her hair turned from ebony to blonde. She was very beautiful yet very, very alien.

* * *

Thursday mornings. Magenta hated them. It was almost but not quite Friday which meant it was almost almost but not quite not quite the weekend. Plus, Wednesday was her sleep night, which meant she had to wake-up like a normal person on a Thursday morning. Scowling, she stepped out of the shower, slipped into a bathrobe and began drying her hair. _At least the Doctor's gone._ She thought. _Although, now that bloody Torchwood's got me under surveillance. And the damn paradox bell. Maybe that was to warn me of Jack._ As if taking a cue, her superior hearing picked up on the bell sounding again. _Guess not._ Her hair was dry now, but not quite as pin-straight as before. _It never used to do that._ She forced herself back to the bedroom, where she had already laid out a uniform for herself. She groaned in distaste. Shuffling through her wardrobe, she decided to shut off the bell, it was really annoying her. She went into her alien-tech room, turned it off, and was about to walk off when she noticed something the Doctor had been examining and had left on the floor. _Black leather... interesting._

Owen left Torchwood's apartment, intending just to go to the ATM, when he got distracted by a pretty black-haired girl.

"Sorry." She said, blushing when she walked into him before walking quickly down the hallway to the stairwell. She hurried on, keeping her messenger bag close to her, unconsciously swinging her hips. Shame she probably wasn't legal. He was admiring the tightness of the black leather skirt and white, fitted blouse when Gwen walked out, closing the door behind her, breaking his concentration.

"Going somewhere?" She asked.

"Yeah, be back in a few." He muttered distractedly, following the black-haired girl's path, although much more slowly.

Magenta was sprinting now. Although no one would pull her up if she was late, she liked to be punctual. Or rather, walk into class just as the teacher was about to gather the class' attention. Especially on days like this. On days like this, she aimed to annoy. Besides, she was only a 'teenager' once, right? Well, technically physically she was 16, had the mindframe of a sixteen year old and the behaviour of a sixteen year old. So if you really thought about it, she was actually sixteen. Meh. She made it to her locker with two minutes before the bell went. From there she casually collected her books and went to the first lesson of the day – History.

Mrs Beckham, or "Becky" to the students, was waiting for them to stop talking when Magenta leant against the doorway.

"Sorry, it took awhile to get dressed." She apologised, then crossed to the other side of the room to take a seat. Then she smiled up at Becky expectantly, 'oblivious' to the giggles and wolf whistles she was receiving.

At lunch she had just sat down when Logan, the horny bastard, had sat next to her.

"Piss off." She said, not looking at him, just picking up a chip with her plastic fork.

"Magenta, babe." He began, drawing her disgusted gaze to him. "You know that I love you, right?"

"And you know they'll have to surgically remove my boot, right?" For emphasis, she crossed her boot-clad feet on the table, running a hand from the sole to the end, which was just above her knee.

"I'm sorry for coming on so strong the other night."

"How the hell did you know where I lived? Are you stalking me?" She asked the last question with feigned anger, projecting her voice across the cafeteria.

"No, I followed you home that afternoon, and I was gonna come up sooner but I couldn't figure out what to say." He was pleading with her now, trying and failing to give her the puppy dog eyes.

"Ew." She wrinkled her nose, picked up her tray, and went to sit with Brendan, kissing his cheek as she sat. Logan looked dejected and walked off. Magenta gave Brendan a 100-Watt smile. "Thanks." She said, and continued to eat her lunch.

Tosh sat, bored, in the lounge of Torchwood's new apartment watching the world through the window. Looking down, she saw a girl with black hair and white skin walk quickly out, trying to straighten her school uniform. She missed millisecond where the monitor changed from 'No lifeform' to 'Alien' then to 'Human' as the girl left the building. What kind of solution was this anyway? There was already a Torchwood in London. Couldn't they just give them the scanner and let them camp out. And five people in a tiny almost-but-not-really-three bedroom apartment wasn't the most fun she'd ever had. Sure, it wasn't the worst place to be in life, but who knows what kind of technology was washing up in Cardiff right at that very second? Gwen wandered back in, looking slightly mystified.

"Did anything about Owen seem strange to you earlier?" Gwen asked.

"No, sorry. Why?"

"No, it's nothing, don't worry about it. Where is he now?" Gwen enquired.

"Jack sent him out to get to know the neighbours." At least now Tosh had something interesting to think about – Owen.

* * *

Magenta flopped down on her couch. Now she was faced with Thursday night, her night off work. But what to do with 12 hours? Her homework and assignments were done, she didn't feel like tinkering with her machines or reading . Watching TV would be alright... actually, she might put on a movie. But first, dinner. She was thinking about what to make when someone knocked on the door. She dragged herself up and straightened her uniform slightly before answering the door. There was that man from this morning, carrying a plastic bag of... Chinese food?

"Hi." He greeted her with an easy smile.

"Hello." She tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear.

"I'm Doctor Owen Harper," He said, extending a hand.

"Magdalena, but my friends call me Magenta." She replied, shaking the said hand. "Would you like to come in?" She asked friendly, deciding to play along. He gave the place a once over as he entered, it was clean, tidy, normal.

"I just moved in a couple of doors down."  
"I know, I saw you moving in. And I ran into you this morning, sorry, again. I thought you must have been new, coz I've lived here for a long time and I've never seen you before." She paused, "Those other people with you, do they live with you or were they just helping you move in?"

"Unfortunately for me and you, they're living with me."

"Five people in a two and a half bedroom apartment? Isn't a bit tight?" He shrugged.

"A little, I guess. How'd you know how big the flat is?"

"All the apartments are the same, but the landlord keeps the unused bedrooms locked with his special key – it's like a one size fits all kinda thing."

"Do you live here by yourself?" He asked.

"Sort of. I have this apartment to myself but 'coz I'm not quite eighteen, I have a legal guardian – the guy who runs this place – he lives upstairs."

As the evening wore on, Owen border-line flirted, Magenta replied alluringly while mentally gagging, they ate Chinese food, and then Logan – that arrogant little dickwad - came looking for Magenta. A sharp knock at the door interrupted them mid-banter. They both looked at the door, surprised. Magenta answered it, with Owen right behind her.

"Logan." She sounded calm, if somewhat unhappy.

"Who's this?" He demanded angrily, stepping forward and forcing his way into the apartment.

"This is my boyfriend, Owen." She lied smoothly, slipping her hand into Owen's.

"So what was that with Brendan at lunch?"

"Surprising little fact this – it _is_ physically possible to be close _friends_ with someone and show some sign of that _platonic_ affection without it meaning that the two people are jumping each other. 'Kay?" Owen jumped in, sneering at the pathetic teenager in front of him. Logan pushed Magenta out of the way, and managed to punch Owen before the older man twisted Logan's arm around his back, effectively stopping to assault.

"I suggest you leave now, before you nose is mysteriously broken." He threatened in a low voice, pushing Logan out of the flat and slamming the door in his face. "Are you alright?" He asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Look at you, though!" She pointed to his solitary wound, the stereotypical fight-scene bi-product – a split lip. "Hang on, just let me get you something for that." She came back with an ice pack. "Thank you for that. Logan's a real arse. Although tomorrow at school he'll probably try it on me again. That or tell everyone I live with my significantly older 'boyfriend'. Eh." She made air quotes on the word 'boyfriend'. Noticing that he hadn't touched the basic medical supplies, she handed him the ice pack.

"Come on, I'm sure you can figure out what to do with it " Owen dabbed at his lip, then held the ice pack there for a few seconds before putting it back on the coffee table.

"Who's Brendan?"

"What?"

"Who is Brendan – you know, that Logan talked about."

"Oh!" She frowned slightly. "Brendan, who I'm fairly certain is gay, it just a friend. Logan, on the other hand, likes me... the way you like me." She looked him straight in the eye as she spoke, making him look away in a rare moment of insecurity. "And I kissed Brendan on the cheek in an attempt to get rid of Logan at school today."

"What grade you in?"

"Twelve, it's just a few weeks until our final exams and then I graduate. Finally." She smiled, although at what he wasn't sure. "See, the great thing about high school," Magenta continued, "is that the people you see everyday disappear at the end of it and you never ever ever have to think about them. Ever. Again." Owen chuckled. He hadn't pinned her for the studious type.

"Do you regularly wear leather to school?" Magenta blushed, though not out of embarrassment. Owen was imagining her spinning around a pole, wearing nothing but a lacy red bra and her leather skirt – a mental image he was unknowingly projecting to her.

"No, no today was special." He laughed again at what he thought was bashful regret. She looked down at the floor, trying to get Owen's fantasy out of her head. He touched her cheek, before moving his hand to move her head up. His eyes met hers and he moved her head closer to his, beginning to move in. Magenta tried to look like she was completely willing to let whatever would happen happen, but she could hear someone coming down the corridor and stopping outside her door. Counting down on her fingers, Magenta thought _Come on, whoever you are. I really don't wanna kiss him. Just knock, it's not that hard._ . 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Just as Owen's lips touched hers, the person knocked, and she jerked back, jumping up to answer the door.

"Hello." There was a woman around Owen's age at the door.

"Hi, I'm Magenta." She introduced herself.

"Gwen. Sorry, not meaning to be rude, but I'm looking for Owen, is he here?" Trying to hide her smile, she made a 'come hither' gesture to her new 'friend'.

"Gwen." The surgeon said, displeased.

"Sorry Owen, but Jack wants to talk to you."

"And he couldn't just call?"

"No, you turned your phone off."

"Maybe there was a reason, maybe I didn't want to be interrupted." Magenta just stood there, looking subtly relieved.

"Sorry, Magenta. Work calls." Owen apologised, looking deep into her eyes (for Gwen's benefit.)

"It's fine. I'll see you some other time then."

'Oh, you can count on it." He kissed her briefly before following Gwen. Magenta shut the door, sliding down it to the floor with a 'Oh, he's perfect' look on her face. Then the expression was corrupted with disgust. _Filthy, filthy mind._

"Don't get personally involved with any of our suspects!" Jack hit the coffee table, angry that Owen could be distracted by a pretty girl at a time like this.

"Alright! I wasn't gonna do anything. Calm down." Owen said, frustrated at being interrupted. Slightly calmer than before, Jack replied with a question. "Did you plant the bug?"

"Yes." Owen answered, sounding like a teenager exhasperated at being questioned by his parents.

"Fine. Good. Great." Jack disappeared into the room he was sharing with Ianto. Tosh was listening to the flat Owen had just been dragged out of. The phone was ringing in the girl's apartment.

"_Hello?"_

_There was a pause._

"_Doctor?" Tosh was working frantically to tap the phone line. Aaaaaand she was in._

"_Yes, yes that's me. Are you... how are you?" The man on the phone sounded strained. Awkward. There was an awkward silence._

"_Did you want something?" She asked, also slightly strained. _

"_I want you to look after your sister for me."_

"_She's not my sister." The girl's voice was harsh, laden with pent-up bitterness. "See, for her to be my sister, you would have to be my father. But you're not, are you? You're only the man who's responsible for my existence who dumped me in Victorian England when I was fifteen. Yeah. Not much of a dad, are you? I bet Allison and James never had that problem. I bet you paid plenty of attention to them. Am I right or am I right?"_

"Jack!" Tosh called. "I think we got something!"


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Notes: How's it going? Again, another edited chapter. So this chapter is just something leading into an (hopefully) interesting little mini-story. Don't be alarmed if you see swearing 'coz to be true to the character of Magenta, you really need it. Her mouth is almost as dirty as her mind. That's a direct quote from my friend who inspired the character, coz originally the OC was me, just imagining what would happen if I had a TARDIS (coughworlddominationcough) but then my friend (whose nickname is Magenta Moncrieff) made a comment which made me realise she's a lot more entertaining than me. So, there you go. Well, she actually said 'My mouth is almost as dirty as my mind', but it's the same concept. Except I based the character physically on Snow White for reasons that will come into it later.

Disclaimer: Hmm, let me check, a disclaimer disclaims so if I have one that means I don't own Doctor Who and don't want to run into any legal troubles with the BBC.

Magenta answered the door for the fourth time that evening to find Captain Jack Harkness leaning casually against the wall.

"Captain Jack." She said before he could say anything.

"How do you know my name?"

"How'd you know I'm an alien? And, by the way, having 'Torchwood' painted on your car? Yeah, that's real subtle."

"You're coming with me." He growled, irritated at having been on the receiving end of her cheek. Batting her eyelashes at him, Magenta teased him coyly, "Captain Harkness, I do declare! Shouldn't we get to know each other first?" He grabbed her arm and dragged her a few metres down the corridor and back into Torchwood's apartment.

Owen looked up in surprise when Magenta appeared in the loungeroom.

"Magenta?" Seeing her stand next to Jack, it struck him that his boss and his almost-conquest were the two most attractive people he had ever met. Her eyes darted to him and she wrinkled her nose.

"You," She pointed at him, "bugged my apartment while trying to preposition me and sending me mental images that just... ew." Gwen, who was sitting on the couch next to Owen, looked jealous.

"You wanted to have sex with her? She's a teenager."

"Oi!" Magenta interrupted, looking like she was concentrating hard on something, "I think I'm a bit past being a teenager if I'm... well, 170 years since I was dumped on Earth... then all the holidays... so that makes me... 204!" The Torchwood team's eyes popped out of their heads. Well, apart from Jack, it took a lot to surprise him. "And I'm on my second incarceration. Regeneration – that was all the energy you picked up."

"Regeneration?" Jack asked, startled. Magenta put on a smug air.

"Gallifreyan. But just human enough to trick... everybody really. Oh yeah," She said with false arrogance, "I'm just that good."

"Do you know the Doctor?" A simple enough question, but it was enough to make Magenta's head spin.

"Do I know the Doctor?" She mocked. "Of course I know the bloody Doctor. The Goddamn Bastard, more like." Gwen was edging closer discretely with a pair of handcuffs. "And you, Gwen Cooper, you can stop right there."

Tosh, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, cleared her throat. "As much fun as this is, we're going to have to ask you to come with us." She said, remembering the proper procedure for an encounter with a civilised alien life form. Magenta rolled her eyes.

* * *

"You gonna have room for me in that SUV of yours? Coz I'd rather drive my own car."

(A/N Damn these line break things. THey never stay in the right place!)

Magenta slapped Jack's hand away from the volume controls.

"Stop doing that. I can't concentrate on driving if you're acting like a hyperactive child."

"You're like siblings." Tosh remarked from the back seat. Magenta responded by wiggling her eyebrows at Jack.

"How 'bout it, Riff-Raff?" Tosh, Jack and Magenta were in Magenta's Mazda, being followed by Owen and Gwen in the SUV. Magenta's eyes flicked up to the rear-view mirror to see Owen clenching his jaw while Gwen kept her arms folded tightly against herself. She nodded at the mirror. "Can you say awkward?" Tosh and Jack both turned their heads and laughed.

"Are you even allowed to drive a car?" Jack asked, curious.

"Nope."

"Have you ever been caught out?"

"No, I have a fake drivers license for a 19-year-old Veronica Marshall.

"Turn left here." Jack instructed, getting an eyeroll as a response.

"Good luck with that." She snarked, going straight. Eventually they found themselves in the backstreets, near the 'Back Door' of the Hub.

"How did you know where to go?" Tosh asked, leaning forward curiously.

"No offence or nothing-" She cut herself off, her face contorted with disgust. "What the hell is wrong with me? I'm speaking like a chav! God, English isn't even my first language, how can I just... ew. Anyway, no offence or _anything_ but your security isn't that great. Don't feel bad – UNIT and van Statten were much easier. You people have no idea what most of that junk is. It's just... it's wasted on you. No offence." She parked the car and unbuckled herself. "It had to be a clear, moony sort of night, didn't it?" Shaking her head slightly, she got out of the car and stepped into the shadows before anyone could notice a change. Jack and Tosh followed to see Owen confronting Magenta.

"We told you, very clearly, to follow Jack's instructions!"

"And I decided, very clearly, to ignore them."

"Magenta, don't screw with me!" She wrinkled her nose.  
"My name isn't Magenta. God, get it right, pedo." Owen responded physically by yanking her into the moonlight while pulling out a pair of handcuffs. "What? Angry 'coz you didn't get any? Or just humiliated?" But no one was paying attention. "What? I mean, _yes_, I _do_ change colour, but it's no reason to stare."

"The Doctor didn't do that." Jack said, accusingly.

* * *

"I can do a lot of things _the Doctor_ can't."

(A/N Damn like breakers)

They were inside the Hub now, waiting for Magenta to finish being scanned. The Timewarp interrupted the silence. Magenta slipped her phone out of her pocket and answered.

"Hello anonymous caller." Her expression changed from moderate interest to anger. "She's not my fucking sister!" Another pause. "Sorry, no actually, I'm in Cardiff, about one step away from being dissected by humans." Another pause. "Why the hell do you want her to stay with me, anyway?" Her expression changed to delight. "So what you're basically saying is she's too stupid for you to teach. Well, in that case y-NO!" She rolled her eyes. "Actually, that could be fun. I could humiliate her... yeah, alright." The Torchwood team looked interested. "Uh, I dunno when I'll be back in London." She considered it for a moment. "Actually, it doesn't matter – I can break my way out." She looked as happy as she could without smiling. "Will I be seeing you there?" The slight curve in her lips disappeared. "No, no of course not. Goodbye, Doctor." Jack looked gutted at having come so close to contact, only to have it snatched away. He quickly covered himself though, slipping back into 'bad-arse alien hunter' mode.

"We're done – the computer has the results." Owen said, more prickly than usual.

"So can I like, go now?"

"I don't think so – there are still issues we need to discuss, like what you took and how you took it." Jack said gruffly.

"Okay, just as long as you don't stick me down in the holding cells near Janet – she could talk for all of... Clom, maybe? No, Raxacoricofallipatorius. No, uh, Gallifrey was the largest, I think. Hmmm. Oh! No, no, I got it! Pasioerrellia – now that's a big planet." They all looked at her, astounded.

"What? Subterraxion lifeforms like her communicate telepathically – their brains are very sensitive. Being cooped up in there all the time with you... non-telepathic people coming in and out can be upsetting. It's like when there's a stalker outside your bedroom when you have your lights on – you can't see them, but they can see you."

Ianto frowned. Jack and Magdalena had been in his office for at least an hour and the only sounds coming out were laughter and giggling and, most recently, Jack's groaning accompianied by Magdalena's 'Shhhhh'. Ianto leant closer to the closed door – he could hear Magdalena whispering.

"So, just wondering, where did the nickname 'Fobby' come from?" Jack laughed, which turned into a moan.

"How'd you know about that?"

"Well, when I was 10, you were at my birthday party and you were talking to the other people in attendance about how you had a childhood friend called Paul who used to call you 'Fobby' which, unfortunately, was a term for 'sex'. Of course, in the 51st century, just about everything was."

"I only met you for the first time today."

"Oh, I know. That is to say – you _will_ be at my 10th birthday party telling an anecdote to some of the grown-ups there about a sexual term which you unfortunately became associated with."

"Ri-ooooooh." Jack moaned. "Yes, keep doing that. Right there, that's perfect." Gwen came down the corridor, presumably to see how the interrogation was going. Ianto motioned at her to be quiet and come closer. Just as Gwen knelt down, Magenta inhaled sharply and exhaled in a sigh.

"Yes. Yes, that.. oh. The Face of Boe, of course." Jack groaned and whimpered.

"Don't stop, please."

"The Face of Boe?" She gasped, then laughed and laughed and laughed.

"What?" Jack sounded wounded. There was silence for a few seconds. Tosh came down the corridor, looking to see where Gwen had gone, and both Ianto and Gwen motioned for her to be quiet and join them at the door.

"You are really over-sexed, you know that? Even for someone from your time." Jack laughed before responding.

"You love it, though."

"Well, I don't, but I know a blonde who does."

"Really?" Jack sounded interested.

"Hey! Not the best time for you to be saying that. Anyway, she's fifteen, uses copious amounts of peroxide trying to maintain her childhood hair colour and has had a crush on you since she was 9."

"Oh. Too young." Jack sounded despondent. Owen came along, saw his co-workers huddled around the door and immediately joined them.

"You're really good at that." Jack commented.

"Oh, I know."  
"Shame Owen missed out."

"Hardy-ha-ha."

"OW! What was that for? It's not very nice to tug on a man's-"

"Shut up." Magenta said suddenly. "Gwen, Owen, Tosh, Ianto-" She called, "just in case you were wondering – your boss gives the best sex in the universe and as far as I'm concerned, you should all jump into bed with him... now." Looking embarrassed, Ianto opened the door to find his boss and their captive both fully-clothed, Magenta standing behind Jack, her hands resting on his shoulders and smirking. Jack was grinning in amusement.

"Oh, there is no way you're not related to him."

"I'm not, actually, but I have a sneaking suspision he engineered me to think like him, to work like him and to behave like him. Trouble is, the human whose DNA he used wasn't the most well-behaved person in the universe...s." She tilted her head to the side while digging her thumbs into his back. "I have issues." Jack moaned in pleasure.

"This girl," He gestured to Magenta, "should be a masseuse." Jack's team felt embarrassed at thinking what they had and being caught out by the subjects.

"Your team all have really perverted minds." Magenta grinned. "Almost as filthy as mine." Tosh yawned. "Fobbie, you should send them home, it's like... uh, 17 minutes to 4."

* * *

In was nearing 7 in the morning, and Jack and Magenta were setting up a new alarm for the door.

"10 quid says Tosh'll walk through those doors first." Jack said, grinning.

"Nah, Ianto, for sure." Neither of them were right, as Tosh, Ianto, Gwen and Owen walked through the door at exactly 10 O'clock after meeting to discuss the quickly-developing friendship between their boss and the alien.

_This year for Christmas, there's something I'd really like,_

_So if you're up there somewhere Santa, please don't bring me another bike,_

_I don't need any ugly sweaters and I don't play much basket ball,_

_But there's something kinda special, that I want most of all_

_I want an alien for Christmas, bring me an alien this year,_

_I want a little green guy about three feet high with seventeen eyes who knows how to fly,_

_I want an alien for Christmas this year._

The music cut off there, leaving the team stunned at the new alarm while Magenta and Jack turned red from laughing so hard. That wasn't the only change Tosh, Owen, Gwen and Ianto found over the day. Gwen found her desk had been completely reorganised in a way that actually turned out to be more efficient than her last system. Ianto found a new type of coffee that seemed to make everyone act high (he suspected that was what Jack and Magenta had been drinking last night). Owen found his files and paperwork organised and neatly arranged in order of importance. Tosh didn't find anything until mid-afternoon, when she was working to figure out what a piece of alien tech was. She was holding the almost flat cylander at eye level with one gloved hand when Magenta interrupted her.

"It's a data storage device." Tosh jumped at the voice, not having noticed Magenta join her. "Show us a look." She took the cylander, pressed something on the side and a very USB-like stick protruded.

"Is that a USB?" Tosh asked, intrigued.

"Yuh-uh. Wonder what's on it." A seemingly innocent question would lead to much angst on Tosh's behalf.

Tosh stuck the alien USB in the computer without really thinking. Almost immediately, everything crashed – every computer in the Hub went down. It was quarter past 6 when Magenta came in from Jack's office, took a look at the computers and laughed.

"You were using a Windows-based operating system, weren't you?" Tosh nodded, frustrated at all the failed attempts to retrieve anything from anywhere. "Anyone got a personal computer I can use?" Magenta asked, amused at their predicament. No wonder she hated Windows.

Around 9 O'clock, Magenta and Gwen returned from Gwen's apartment. _No Rhys, she's just helping us restore our computer system but she needs to use a functional computer to do it. _Gwen's boyfriend, Rhys, had been very curious. Everything about Gwen's new job was all 'Hush, hush.' Tosh who had been beating herself up at her own curiousity wouldn't go home until everything was restored at 10 O'clock. Magenta had done everything with unfair ease. All she had to do was stick in a disk, press a few buttons and everything was back to normal. Granted, she had used a program Tosh had never seen before.

"Can I suggest that you switch to Ubuntu?" The rest of the conversation was lost on the remaining Torchwood staff, as Tosh and Magenta lost themselves in tech-talk. The next day, everything was pretty and easy to use and Tosh could explore the USB without getting the virus on the computers, because that's just how good Ubuntu is. Of course, the next day, Magenta was gone.

"Hey Jack, where's Magdalena?" Owen asked, hoping that she was gone.

"She's gone back to London." He refused to say anymore, even though no one would give it a break.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

Author's Notes: Hi Everybody! _Hi Doctor PlasmaBall! _Anyway. I was going through the story on line to see how badly fanfiction screwed up the formatting and boy! All the line breakers are in the wrong places and stuff. It's really annoying me. But I can't do anything about it. Damn. There's a line in here borrowed from a poem which I think if called 'Sorry' but I can't remember exactly and I don't know who the author is.

Disclaimer: If you need one of these, then what the hell are you doing on fanfiction?

* * *

Magenta parked her Mazda in its usual spot at 7 in the morning. She hit her head against the steering wheel. She had missed Friday (a school day) and she didn't like to miss Fridays because she had all her favourite subjects on Fridays. Oh well. And today was Judgment Day – Allison or 'Allie' was coming. Ideas were already forming in her head. Maybe she could pack everything up and move... no. Maybe she could... YES! It was perfect, like a story arch – set it up and leave clues until the heroine finds the answer. Stripping had always seemed like a fun job.

A little interlude...

Martha stared at the Doctor, who was standing stock-still. He seemed to have forgotten there were blood-thirsty aliens chasing the TARDIS and that he was the only one who could fly it.

"You alright?" She asked. He looked startled and blinked like a deer caught in headlights.

"That girl – Magenta – she was singing." Martha looked at him strangely.

"No, she wasn't."

* * *

"Yes she was, she was singing the same song as the TARDIS was when..." He trailed off, then jumped back into action when the console sparked and the whole ship was shaken.

* * *

In was 6 pm, just half an hour before Allison was meant to arrive. Magenta had packed an overnight bag and made arrangements with her 'guardian', Tom, to stay with him overnight. She had just finished writing the notes when she heard the TARDIS materialize outside the building. Resisting the urge to run down there, she quickly locked all the door except for the bathroom, left one note on the coffee table, picked up her bag, then went out, stuck the second note on the door, and ran upstairs to Tom's place.

Allison 'Allie' Sigma couldn't believe it. Her much beloved father had sent her to live with her step-sister, who she hadn't seen in two years, for no apparent reason! The last time she had seen Magenta was when she was lit up like a light bulb – all that gold light... it was scary. He had packed her bags for her with literally everything in her room, landed on Earth, and then told her to go find (and he had looked slightly pained as he said the name) Magenta. So now her brother and her father were dematerializing in her only home while she was stuck with the hardly ever mentioned family member. Sure, the Doctor would sometimes slip up, asking 'Genta' to hand him his screwdriver or say something like 'I wish she was here'. He only said that when he was sad, although sometimes she was sure he was referring to her mother. The TARDIS was completely gone now, so she was just a strange girl in one of, if not _the_ most, dodgy part of London. She checked the address written on the back of her hand. Well, this was the right building. She picked up her strangely light bag. It had symbols engraved in the handle which the TARDIS wouldn't translate and neither would her father. The said handle was gold, and it was kinda like one of those old carpet bags, but made of black silky stuff. Okay, so she was going up the stairs now. From the stairwell she could see each apartment door. It was only three flights up when she found the right apartment... with a note taped to the door.

_Allison,_

_Sorry I couldn't be here – duty calls._

_Grasp the silver knob sticking out of the large wooden rectangle. Then twist it to the left to open it. The silver knob will recognise your genetic mark and let you in. I'm sorry if this is too confusing for you. I'll see you in the morning._

The last word was written in weird symbols, kinda like the ones on her bag. Allie frowned. She couldn't see any large wooden rectangles with a silver knob sticking out of it. She lent against the door, sliding down to the floor. She could always try and find a hotel – the Doctor had left her with heaps of money. Although, she didn't know London very well and she didn't know if it was safe enough outside. It was better, she figured, to sleep outside someones door inside a decent-looking apartment building, than to wander around a strange city. Her dad had told her not to go anywhere without her step-sister with her. But her step-sister wasn't here. A boy, a few years older than her walked into the corridor from the stairwell. He stopped short, surprised, when he saw her.

"Who are you?" He asked rudely.

"Doesn't matter." Her dad had warned her against strange men – she wasn't sure exactly why but she was sure there was a reason.

"Do you know Magenta?" He asked, nodding at the door. He obviously knew her relatively well. The Magenta she remembered wasn't very trusting of anybody.

"Yeah, I'm meant to be staying with her, but she just left a note for me. Something about a large wooden rectangle with a knob, but there's only a door." The boy stared at her, then burst out laughing. By the time he stopped, his face had gone red and there were tears pouring down his face. "The door. You just described a door, then said 'but there's only a door'. Man, you're funny – I can see why Magenta likes you. But can you tell her Brendan stopped by about the formal?" Allie nodded, feeling humiliated. At least the boy thought she had been stupid on purpose. "Thanks." He was gone, chuckling as he jogged down the stairwell. She got up from the floor and opened the door with ease.

The flat was tidy but not clinically so. The furniture was nice and the colour scheme was fairly consistant. All in all, Allie would say Magenta had taste and was doing pretty well for herself. There was just one problem. Everything, apart from the bathroom, was locked. The couch looked like it had been made up as a bed with white pillows and blankets. There was a note on the coffee table.

_Allison,_

_Congratulations on making it this far – now, you must decode this message to continue. _Allie hoped she was joking. _There is food in a metal rectangular prism in the kitchen. Don't worry about any mess you make because you won't be making any mess! I have been kind enough to prepare several meals for you to choose between – they have all been set out on plates with cutlery being on the table. _Surprised, Allie suddenly noticed a knife and fork on the coffee table. _The washing up – just use the dishwasher. I assume you can figure out how to use it. If not, just leave them in the sink and I'll teach you tomorrow._

_Goodnight, little 'sister',_

The same symbols from the first note were down the bottom. Okay, so the metal rectangular prism was... uh... oh! The fridge! And dishwashers were easy to use, so there weren't any dramas there. Allie didn't realise it, but Magenta was quite obviously making fun of her.

* * *

Magenta grinned at Tom from behind the bar. His green eyes were smiling at her as she danced around, doing 'magic tricks'.

"Do it again!" A slightly drunk patron of the night club demanded. Her grin widening, and successfully stunning Tom, she hoped up on the bar with whiskey in one hand and vodka in the other. Spinning them around as she danced to the music, no one actually saw the bottles go anywhere near the glasses, but by the end of the song, the row of shot glasses in front of the drunk had been filled – alternating between vodka and whiskey. Getting down, Tom laughed as Magenta flicked her hair over her shoulder. It was a Saturday, so the club was crowded. And noisy. The music had a strong bass line and the music was alternating between different styles. There were two levels to the club. The bottom level had a stage, a DJ booth and three dance floors on different levels. There were little booths off to the side and little curtained-off sections with 'V.I.P' sort of vibes. The upper level was more like a large balcony looking out over the dance floors with a fairly big bar area where Magenta worked, stools on the other side of the bench and more of the same sort of booths as down stairs. To the left of the bar, there was a door that had two bouncers waiting outside it. This was the ultimate exclusive area. The walls were black, but with all the different lights it didn't really make a difference. All the seats and carpeted areas were red while the dance floors and non-carpeted areas were white. He could see why Magenta liked this place.

Magenta wondered why Tom bothered with her. She could look after herself, they weren't romantically involved nor did she think they ever would be and she couldn't see what she had to offer him. Sure, she knew she had some degree of physical attractiveness, she was smarter than the average human and she knew how human psychology worked – if something is forbidden, it makes us want it so much more. Their romantic relationship would be forbidden – wrong. A guardian and his charge. It was a shame she would have to leave soon. She liked Tom platonically and (as a plus, but not the only reason she would consider a relationship with him) he was attractive. Strong jaw line, green eyes, light brown/dark blond hair. A 'pretty boy' as she remembered the Doctor once describing Tom's type with disdain. She smiled at Tom – it was how they communicated. They would smile at each other and use facial expressions rather than words. Her smile faded as she saw someone she recognised coming up the stairs.

"I'm gonna swap with Jenna!" She shouted over the music, leaving the bar. The bouncers let her through no problems, and a few minutes later, another girl with sandy blonde hair walked out.

"Thomas Harrison?" A woman around 35 with brown hair and eyes asked.

"Yeah?" He had to yell over the music to be heard.

"I'm Rebecca Mooningham, I work Magdalena's school. It's about your guardianship of Magdalena Moncrieff." Tom felt his stomach sink. Sure, he knew he wasn't exactly 'guarding' her well, but she could take care of herself – she had done for as long as he'd known her. "Is there somewhere more quiet we can talk?"

Tom and Ms Mooningham were in one of the booths at the side of the bar. It was surprisingly quiet in there – the bass line felt through vibrations and the melody was no louder than if they had been in a car, listening to the radio.

"It has come to my attention that her behaviour at school is not appropriate. We all thought she would simply adjust to her new situation in life and blend in better, but the prolonged nature of her activities has caused me to reconsider her behavioural patterns." Tom nodded, understanding the gist of what she was saying. Ms Mooningham sighed. "I'm afraid that the patterns she displays – defiance of authority figures, willful disruption – they are common in victims of neglect and abuse."

"I've never-"

"No, Mr Harrison, I wasn't implying you had done anything, but I was wondering if you knew the details of her life before she came to be in your care."

"Well," Tom began, "my dad was her guardian before me, but only for a year. And about 20 years before that, he looked after her mother. My dad was never abusive or neglectful before he died, and she doesn't like talking about anything before that."

"She hasn't mentioned anything eluding to it? Have you ever seen any physical scarring?" Tom shook his head.

"How did you find me here?" He asked, curious to the last.

"I tried the address listed in our records. I found a girl claiming to be Magdalena's stepsister saying there was only a note saying that 'Duty Called.'. Then I tried the address on her application forms to the school. A neighbour informed me you had come here."

"And you couldn't have just waited until tomorrow?"

"Mr Harrison, we received notice this afternoon that a government social worker would be visiting the school on Monday to check on her." Tom looked alarmed. "It's just a standard check required by law on custody cases. We do not want her behaviour to reflect badly on the school." Tom raised a displeased eyebrow.

"So the only reason you're telling me this is so you don't look bad?" Ms Mooningham looked uncomfortable.

"When you put it like that, I suppose you're right." Tom shook his head in disbelief. "Thank you for your time, Mr Harrison, please inform Magdalena of the situation. Goodbye." Tom didn't reply. Ms Mooningham left quickly. She was that kind of prim, proper, night-clubs-are-only-one-step-away-from-sex-clubs sort of person. Tom returned to his stool to find Magenta back behind the counter.

"Let me guess – there's some sort of inspection tomorrow and she wants me to be on my best behaviour?"

"That was the brunt of the conversation, yes. Although, she did mention something about thinking you were abused or neglected or something like that." Magenta's lip twitched.

"Apparently not."

* * *

Allie was lying on the couch, just as if not more comfortable than if she had been in her own bed. Last night she had slept fitfully, plagued with memories of her stepsister and her father. Her screaming – her crying, and his yelling. Then came Christmas. Allie had remembered when she was 13, her dad had given her and James what was left of their mother's. Apparently, she died giving birth to them. Allie tried to feel grief, but you couldn't grieve for someone you never knew. She remembered the cold way her father's eyes had locked on the doorway when he noticed an intruder on their precious family moment. The intruder who had always been there. She remembered the intruder screaming at them – the golden energy spreading from her eyes to the rest of her body until it swirled around – her eyes glowing golden-white light, her hand raised, as if to strike them down. She remembered that strange accent – Transylvanian, maybe. _Just forget about __them__ for once! Surprise, I'm alive! __I'm__ your creation. You wanted me. They were a mistake. Remember your first born? Remember me? _Allie remembered the words pouring through her soul. She remembered the hate the intruder sent toward them. _I tried to accept it. I tried to accept your rejection. Just like Rose did – Sarah Jane, Madame de Pompadour, Lynda with a y, the tree-woman from Cheen, reminiscent thoughts of Romana, past companions, Lucy the maid, and the constant rejection every time she tried to get closer. You couldn't even tell her. You were about to tell her – on the verge of it so many times. How can a being that cannot feel emotions recognise your own affections better than you? I try to get closer to you – to have a father again. Not as a lover, like Rose, but as a family. I want my father back. I want my teacher back. I want my mother back. I want __them__ to feel the emptiness – the inability to feel – as I do. As I suffer. And I want my Doctor back._ Allie could remember the words echoing through her head, as though they had been spoken directly into her brain. She remembered her father yelling back.

_Stop with the melodrama – I was never your father, you were as much an accident as they were! You're an experiment that went wrong! Frankenstein's Monster. _As her father spoke, the intruder got angrier – brighter. She began to change. The intruder's hair began to whip around her face as though a sudden wind had blown up. Her face changed, as did her hair and clothes. She was blonde, now, and tears poured down her face. Her father was crying now, too, the Universe playing a cruel prank...

_You used to call me beautiful, now you see me as a monster. You used to call me daughter, now you say that I am wrong. You ignore my suffering because of your abuse. You ignore the child you made because I am not your Rose and I never tried to be. 'Rape! Oops! Such a nasty word...'_ Allie's flashback was interrupted by the door opening to see the intruder. The dreaded step-sister. Magdalena.

"Gosh, I can see you missed me." The strange accent wasn't there, replaced instead by wry sarcasm. She looked the way she used to, if slightly older. Her eyes were wizened – like she had seen too much. It was the same expression she had worn when she and the Doctor came back from their two-week absence. The Doctor refused to talk while Magenta avoided all human contact. The only one allowed near her was the Doctor, and even then he was only allowed minimal physical contact, Magenta flinching everytime he touched her...


	8. Chapter 8

Heh heh. Implications. No, the Doctor did not sexually abuse Magenta, but he was directly responsible for another indictment against her which sort of turned her slightly insane which is why she is the way she is now. Just warning you – this chapter sucks. It really, really does.

RingWarriorAzec 1708: Ask and ye shall receive. I'm actually quite proud of the explanation that I managed to make fit into this chapter. I had planned for it to come later, but hey, it was fun trying to make something RTD has made virtually impossible to be true fit.

TARDIS's were grown, which I'm taking to mean like plants.

Hey, you guys wanna hear something funny? My friend who is sort of Magenta knows a guy whose name is David Ross, but his nickname is Davros, and he had no idea who Davros in the Whoverse was until she made him watch The Stolen Earth and Journey's End. Funny. To those of you who don't know what a formal is, it's basically just a prom (and we all know what a prom is, right?) but more sophisticated. Anyway, she said something to me the other day that surprised the hell out of me. She had Myspace! She's one of those people who loves computers and the internet but she doesn't use it to socialise. So if you guys wanna get a sense of who she is, just search for Magenta Moncrieff and she's under Magenta. That's not her name, but hey! That's fine.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't own it – it's property of Auntie Beeb and Russell T. Davies. I don't really even own Magenta, which is slightly sad. Eh.

_Sunday_

"Where were you?" Allison asked. Magenta shrugged.

"Places."

"Like what kind of places?"

"A _friend's_ place. A guy friend's place, to be more specific." Magenta was pushing it, trying to see how Allie would react.

"Like a study thing or a party or just, like, a sleepover or something?" Magenta blinked once, looking slightly stunned before answering.  
"None of the above." Allie frowned, but didn't say anything further. Magenta passed her, saying something in a strange language.

"What's that?" She asked.

Magenta looked at her, surprised. "The Doctor never taught you Gallifreyan?"

"Galli-what?" Allie frowned. Magenta unlocked her bedroom door, closing it behind her, then she collapsed on the bed, looking thoughtful.

_Monday_

"Allison! Hurry up, we'll be late!" Magenta tapped her toe impatiently as she stood by the bathroom door. Her half-sister (who was under the impression they weren't actually related) slept every night like a normal person – how very human of her. And she took forever to get ready. Now, she wasn't about to say 'Mummy was a whore' but she was beginning to doubt Allie's paternity. _Finally_ Allie stepped out of the bathroom in a scratchy new school uniform.

"Alright, I'm done, can we go now?"

"Have you got everything? Books? Lunch or Earth money? All that stuff that concerned parents are meant to ask about?"

"_Yes._"

"And are you planning on putting on any shoes before we go or do you want to pick up ring worm in the course of the day?" Allison rolled her eyes, not quite grasping the humour of the statement, and slipped into a pair of black leather school shoes, tied them up, then straighted to look at her step-sister.

"Is this better?"

Magenta shrugged. "I don't really care how you look, I was just making fun of you. Come on."

Anyone watching the two girls walk to school wouldn't have guessed they were related. Magenta's pitch black hair contrasted sharply against Allie's peroxide blonde. Their skin wasn't the same – white as snow against a gentle tan wasn't the strangest comparison there could be, but it still looked weird. Under normal circumstances, 15 year old Allison would be quite attractive in a sweet, innocent never-been-exposed sort of way. But these were not normal circumstances. Allison was pretty, she looked more like her father than her mother but the maternal resemblance was still there, not nearly as strongly as with Magenta, but still there. But now, bathed in Magenta's unearthly beauty, all her innocent appeal was lost in favour of her step-sister's sexy sway, the seen-too-much expression she held drawing in a morbid sort of curiosity. The differences in their uniforms were drastic. Allie was wearing her uniform exactly as it was meant to be worn – the black skirt reaching exactly 5cm below her knee, her black stockings and shoes in perfect condition, her white blouse tucked in with every button done up. Everything from her perfectly tied tie to hair went by the rules – her father had enrolled her , he had told her to fit in, and not to draw too much attention to herself. Magenta on the other hand looked like, if questioned, would say 'Rules? What rules?'. Her blouse was fitted and the first two buttons undone. Her skirt was a step down from Thursday's _black leather, _now it was just a severly hemmed uniform skirt, ending about half-way up her thigh. Her stockings were okay, but the shoes... black court shoes with a two inch heel. Yes, yes very school friendly. They didn't say a word to each other until they were almost at the school.

"We're sisters, right?"

"Right."

Allie went to the administration office to get her time table while Magenta went to find her friends.

She found them, as usual, waiting at her locker for her. They greeted each other and were talking about what stuff happened over the weekend.

"Hey, did that blonde chick tell you I stopped by?" Brendan asked.

"No, no she didn't."

"I was just wondering if you'd like to go to the formal with me?" He wasn't nervous, but he wasn't confident, either.

"Yeah, all right, then." They smiled at each other – well, Brendan smiled, Magenta just did her almost-but-not-quite-smile thing. All the residular cellular energy had gone, and with it, her good mood. The bell rang, signaling the beginning of the first lesson.

"Now students, we have a new student with us today. Meet Allison..." The teacher glanced at something on the desk to check the last name. Her eyes widened and her smile became that little bit more fake. "... Moncrieff. And relation to Magenta, dear?"

"Yes. She's my sister." The students laughed at the teacher's reaction. Allison had gone into grade 11 with Magenta's old classmates (remember, she skipped grade 11 so these people are the people in the grade she was originally in). The lesson (English) went uneventfully, much to the surprise of the class. Her next lesson, Maths, went much the same way. The teacher did a double take, looked nervous and asked about her 'sister' and looked worried for the whole lesson. The third lesson and teacher were exactly the same. At lunch, she was waved over by Magenta's friends, even though Magenta wasn't there.

"Magenta's little sister. Sit." One girl, Lauren, commanded. "Tell us about you."

"Well... for starters, I'm not her sister... I'm not actually sure how I'm related to her... I think we have the same mother."

Lauren rolled her eyes. "Okay then."

"So, my dad – that's Magenta's stepfather – sorta dumped me here with her because I think her felt I wasn't getting enough of an education. He was homeschooling me and my twin brother, but apparently my brother was fine where he was." Allie sounded resentful.

"How old are you?" Sylvie asked, she didn't like people under 16 much.

"I'm 15 but I'm turning 16 in September." Sylvie wrinkled her nose slightly but Allie didn't notice. Lauren leant forward conspirationally. "Tell us about Magenta."

_Half an hour later..._

"Really? 'Coz she's very... ostentatious." Allie, Lauren, Sylvie and Brendan were comparing notes on their friend. They had established that her behaviour when she was with the Doctor was very different to how she was at school.

Allie shrugged. "I dunno. She used to be like that – always wanting my dad's attention, but then they went missing for a week, then came back and everything about her was _really_ different."

"She went missing? Where was she?"

"She and my dad, yes. I dunno where they were – they didn't tell me much. But I remember he made her take this stuff called," Allie paused, trying to remember what it was called. "RU486. She was sick for weeks and we weren't allowed near her. Well, when I say 'we' I mean my twin brother and I. Dad was the only person she liked to talk to or be touched by. And even then she was always cringing away from any form of physical contact. I know they were held captive by some dude who called himself some weird name... the Valeyard, I think." Allie's audience was fascinated. They had no idea anything like that had ever happened to their friend. Their friend who was preoccupied in trying to get away from the social worker following her around the school 'inconspicuously'. Magenta ducked into the French room, crawling under the table right next to the door and holding her breath. 10 seconds later, the social worker – a fairly plain woman with a moustache – came in. She walked through the classroom to the door on the other side, leaving Magenta alone at last. She let out the breath she had been holding. A few minutes later, she was standing outside the doors to the cafeteria, her superior senses picking up on their conversation.  
"So you really don't know anything more than that?"

"Sorry. I do know that RU486 is, though. It's an abortion pill. Well, that's the point of it, I don't really know how it works." Allie seemed proud that she knew what it did. Magenta chose that moment to bounce up to her friends.

"That's actually not _quite_ right, but you got the brunt of it." Her friends jumped in surprise, not having noticed her slide up to them. She sort-of laughed at them, then shook her head.

"So, anyone know anything more about the formal, other than it's soon?" In a matter of seconds, she had managed to shift the attention off the darkest period of her life onto a completely pointless human ritual. _Man, I'm good._

Monday meant assembly. Assembly meant boredom. Which was why the student body were sitting in uncomfortable plastic chairs looking stoned.

"And finally, I would like to announce that the formal dance will be held Saturday week. There are a few rules I would like to run through with you. No alcohol will be allowed. Any inebriated students will be asked to leave. No other recreational drugs are allowed. Clothing must be tasteful and decent." Mr Gregson read out. He looked directly at Magenta. "No leather, no pleather, no vinyl, no imitation leather of any kind. Skirts must be of decent length. Dresses must have a certain degree of modesty." There was a ripple of laughter from the students as Magenta looked back at him, pouting adorably. He shifted his gaze from her to the social worker standing "subtly" at the back of the hall. He hoped she hadn't noticed his pointed gaze. Then the bell rang, signalling the end of the day and the end of assembly.

"Good afternoon, students."

"Good afternoon, Mr Gregson." There was a mad rush as everyone tried to get out at the same time. Magenta kept her eyes on him, contemplating a slightly evil thought. Almost everyone was gone before she left.

Magenta watched with interest as Allie came around the corner with her new friends. They didn't notice her.

"So why was Mr Gregson staring at her?" Allie asked. Her entourage laughed.

"It wasn't just Mr Gregson. It was all the teachers."

"And why were they all so focused on her?"

"Last Thursday, she wore a leather mini-skirt to school. That and they're all scared of her." It was at that moment one of the group noticed her leaning against Allie's locker. The girl looked embarrassed at being caught out. Magenta frowned slightly.

"Okay, they're not scared of me, they _fear_ me. There's a difference. And, in case you can't work it out, I don't mean fear like 'monsters under the bed' I mean fear like 'God-fearing'. Do we see the distinction?" The embarrassed girl nodded and Magenta looked expectantly at her sister.

"Bye, guys." And suddenly Allie's entourage were gone.

"Friends of yours?"

"Mmmmm." Allie grabbed her bag. "Shall we go?" Magenta nodded, already having got her own stuff. Magenta tilted her head to the side, noticing the differences in her half-sister's uniform. Her blouse was untucked and the first few buttons undone. Her skirt was low on her hips and her hair was down. Magenta almost smiled. She loved corrupting the innocent.

The girls were sitting next to each other on the couch, watching TV. Their postures were dramatically different. While Allie slouched into the couch, Magenta sat straight, unconsciously holding her head in a regal pose, like she always did. An ad break came on.

"You really have no idea what happened to me?" Magenta asked, curiously.

"No." Allie shook her head and Magenta chuckled darkly.

"The Doctor and I were coming home from saving the universe and we were... intercepted by some guy calling himself the Valeyard. Your dad knew him, I think. He kept saying 'He's gotten worse.'."

"But what'd he do to you?" Allie asked, only to find herself on the receiving end of the most heartbreaking expression she'd ever seen.

"He was a sadist." Magenta ran out. As she left the flat, a golden tear fell down her cheek. So much time had passed for her, but the memories hadn't faded. All she could hear now were her own screams for mercy, all she could see was the Valeyard's face. She could feel his hands running over her surprisingly gently, pretending she was her mother. She found herself in the empty lobby, tears pouring down her face, her phone in hand. She barely registered what she was doing when she called the TARDIS.

"Hello?" Her brother answered.

"James... can I talk to the Doctor?"

"Sure, sis, just give me a sec." Magenta was surprised that he could recognise her voice. The 'sis' part didn't, though. They had always regarded each other as full siblings, being closer than Allie was with either of them.

"Hello?"

"Doctor?" One word, and he could tell something was wrong.

"What's happened?"

Magenta shook her head, as if to clear it. "Can you... I just... wanted... to hear... your voice." The Doctor was surprised by this sudden dependancy on him.

"I thought you hated me, though."

"Oh, I do, don't worry." She didn't just want to 'hear his voice', and he knew it. There were a few seconds of silence, then the TARDIS began to materialise in front of her. "You know me too well."

* * *

"I don't know what disturbs me more – that you knew what I wanted or that you know my voice that well." Magenta had her legs wrapped around the central column of the control room, perched on top of the console. It was a pose she had learned in childhood, often clammering up there to avoid her half-sibling's arguments.  
"I think I would know my own creation's emotions, thank you very much."

Magenta stuck her tongue out at him. He was sitting in the Captain's chair, facing her perch on the console. "You never explained that whole 'creation' thing fully. What am I?"

"You're a carbon-based being centred around a TARDIS."

"Yes, I know _that _much, thankyou."

"No, I mean it. You are a carbon-based life form that came from a TARDIS seed." She stared, then blinked at him, confused. "Say what now?"

"When the TARDIS germinated, I didn't have the technology to engineer it, but I didn't want the seed to die, either. So I put the seed in this... loom-like thing I found with a cocktail mix of genetic components and I got you."

"How did it work? That's impossible!"

"It's true, though. I made the genetics form a foetus with the TARDIS seed at the centre, with the TARDIS controlling the development." She looked at him dubiously for a moment.

"And how many parents to I have? What species?"

"Well, there's Rose, Jack, my friend Alzar who's Beviruin, that's where you get the colour-changing thing from, and I'm not sure, but probably me."

"_Probably_ you?"

"Well, I did handle the equipment and the seed with my bare hands, which was probably kinda stupid of me, but I'm not sure if my genetic material reached you."

"So, what, I have 3 but possibly 4 parents?"

"Yes... and I might have engineered you... a bit... like me anyway."

"But how's it _work_?"

"TARDIS seeds on Gallifrey were put in a mechanical shell and allowed to grow, making the ship bigger as they grew. You're the same. Only you're not gonna grow anymore."

"So, what? I'm a TARDIS?"

"No, you're an embodiment."

"Of what?"

"The heart of a TARDIS... and time energy."

"You're bloody impossible!"

"I am, frankly, brilliant." She rolled her eyes at him, but didn't say anything in reply to his slightly shifty but generally plausible explanation.

"So why do you hate me?" She asked.

"I don't hate you. I'm scared of you." She did a double take, falling off the console, hitting various controls on her way down. They were plunged into darkness. A few moments later, the gravity disappeared and they both grabbed onto the edge of the console.

"Well, we're up shit creek."

* * *

Hours later, they had managed to get the lights back on and the gravity right. James had bruises all over him from falling from his bedroom ceiling. The three were in a disused living room (it was the only one they could find with the furniture the right way up). It was almost exactly like Magenta's flat. The Doctor and Magenta sat on the white couch, next to each other, with James in a matching arm chair to their left.

"So you thought I was going to make you disintigrate or something?" Magenta was laughing at the Doctor's slight embarrassment.

"Just a little bit, yeah."

"And that was grounds to throw me into Victorian London, how?"

"I'm sorry, really I am, but the last time I saw someone like that, they were obliterating a Dalek empire. I was scared for your sibling's safety." Magenta opened her mouth, about to point out the only half-related thing, but then shut it again in light of recent revelations.

"And you didn't think at all about me?"

"I'm _sorry, _but no, I didn't."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "The same way you weren't thinking when you let the Valeyard take me?"

"I never let him take you." He retorted, confused

"Yes you did – he said something like 'Can I have her? Oh, pleeeeeeease.' and you just nodded."

"Is _that_ what he was asking?"

"_Yes._" James hadn't said anything, he just sat there, watching his sister. He finally spoke up.

"So, is that where you were? With this Valeyard guy?"

Magenta felt much more comfortable talking about it with her brother than her sister. "Yes, he wasn't a very nice person." She frowned. "That reminds me; did you know him?" She asked the Doctor.

"Well, I've had a run-in with him before, he's gotten worse."

"Of course he has."

"You know, you are welcome to stay." The Doctor pointed out. They had done a paternity test, which had turned up negative, but it was still worth knowing.

Magenta shook her head. "No thanks, I have to get back. I'm almost finished school and, in case you forgot, you dumped your daughter on me."

"I didn't forget! I was... calibrating!" She made a strange sound at the back of her throat – like a hiss and a giggle at the same time.

"At least let me take you on a 'Thank you' trip."

"Yeah, all right..."

* * *

Magenta scowled at the Doctor as they ran. He made a 'What can you do?' face, and they got back to the TARDIS just as the natives started throwing spears.

"I haven't had a trip like that in _years_!" The Doctor exclaimed, ecstatic.

"And I haven't seen idiocy of that scale in _forever_." Magenta said, mocking his excitement. "Who the hell walks up to the Chief's daughter and casually asks her if she wants to do it? Oh, wait, my brother, apparently."

"Look," James began, "I didn't mean to ask her that – I wanted to ask her on a date... it just came out a bit wrong." She glared at him.

"Of course it did." She began setting co-ordinates. "And I think I'll go home now." When the TARDIS landed, she hugged her brother goodbye and left, the Doctor following. They were exactly where they had left... seemingly. She put her hands on his shoulders, and he rested his on her hips. They looked like they were dancing. Then they pulled each other closer into a hug.

"Bye, Doctor." She whispered.

"_Dad._" He corrected, earning himself a rare smile. He didn't care that they weren't related. "You're so much like your mother." She nodded and pulled away from him. He went back into the TARDIS, and she waited for minute until it had completely disappeared. When she got back to her apartment, she was surprised to see her sister with her friends. When she opened the door, they stared.

"Oh, my god." Allie said slowly. Magenta heard someone squeal, then she was almost knocked backwards with the force of the hug she got from Lauren.

"Can't... breathe."

"You were gone for 10 days! Where were you?" Out of all her friends, Lauren had been the most teen-girl.

"Uh... with my stepdad."

"What were you doing?" Allie asked. Magenta looked straight at her, amusement already shining in her eyes.

"Fucking." She said in complete seriousness – of course, her friends knew not to take her seriously. The reaction she got from Allie was very different to what she was expecting.

"What?"

"Sex, Allison."

"What's sex, Magdalena?" Magenta's eyes widened.

"You don't know what sex is? And you're 15?"

"No."

Magenta hung her head – oh, the shame of it! She snapped her fingers at Lauren. "Explain to her, then come find me." She walked into her bedroom, locking the door behind her.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Hi guys. I'm not really sure if I should be posting this, coz I'm experiencing extreme emotional turmoil and I'll probably end up making everyone die, so maybe you should all just keep that in mind. Oh! Yeah, and hi to Azza. Thanks to all those who sent reviews and added to alerts and faves and even just those who cared enough to read it. Yeah. Thanks, guys.

It was the Saturday of the dance, and Magenta was standing in front of her mirror, doubtful. She was wearing a pair of red heels. They were very strappy, but she could walk and that was the main thing. Her dress was blood red and black – the same colours as her. [Take the spaces out (http :/ /www. chinatown /im ages/produ cts/33574/33 574_ but a deeper blood red)]. Allie poked her head in.

"Aren't you gonna do anything more with your hair?"

Magenta shook her head. "No, it's fine." Then she eyed Allie's dress. (h tt p://pro /uploade d_image s/blue -pr om-dres ses-78 no changes) Allie had her hair in an intricate up-style. She had been invited by Logan, whom she had taken an instant liking to. Magenta had just let her hair fall like a black waterfall around. While not wavvy, it wasn't completely straight either. Since her regeneration, it had grown down to the top of the small of her back. There was a knock at the door.

"Are you gonna get that?" Allie asked, needing to do her make-up. Magenta, of course, never needed cosmetics. She rolled her eyes and answered the door. There was Brendan, in a tux. It was still two hours until the dance started, but they wanted to get dinner first... with Logan and Allie among other friends. She shifted slightly uncomfortably, not used to the feeling of fishnet-like material against her legs.

"You look nice." She commented, slightly surprised. She was glad, however, he had gone with the usual black, instead of a ridiculous pastel she expected some guys to wear.

"Can I come in?"

* * *

"Oh, yeah, course." She stepped back, letting him into the apartment. Her mobile rang, Iggy Pop's 'The Passenger' ringing out. "One second. Hello?" She looked startled. "Go on." She urged. "No, not tonight. Tomorrow – I can do it for you tomorrow. No, I'm going out tonight. _No,_ I can't cancel. Formal. You know, a dance. Like a prom or a ball or a gala event. A proper dance. No, it's for school. NO!" Her eyes widened as she yelled the last part in alarm. "You don't need to do that – really, you don't- NO! Not that! Anything but that! No, not that either. Why do you need it done tonight, anyway? Oh. That... changes things. Um, I can skip the dinner before hand and I can use a webcam." She wrinkled her nose. "No, I cannot drive to bloody Cardiff and back in time for the dance. _No,_ I'm not doing that either. God, just be happy that I care." Brendan was intrigued – she was speaking with distain, like whatever she had to do was the most unwelcome task in the world. "Fine," She was still speaking. "Send someone down here with it, then. I won't be here, anyway." There was silence while she waited for something on the other end of the call. "Really? They have one in London as well? Only without the omnious beeping... of course. No, we can just do the webcam thing. No, I'll see you in a minute." She turned to Brendan. "I'm sorry, I'll just be a minute. You can sit down, if you want." Then she went into her bedroom, leaving Brendan alone.

Magenta's face came up on the screen.

"You better have something _really_ dangerous for interrupting me, Jack Harkness. And if you say 'Captain', I'm so gonna kill you. And no, I'm not a necrophile."

"Well, that's not where my thoughts were headed, but it's good to know anyway."

"Whatever." She tossed her hair indignantly. "What have you got for me?" He held up a metallic rectangular prism around the size of a cereal box. It had flashing lights along each edge, flashing red and emitting a loud multi-tonal beeping. "You're kidding." She looked put out.

"What is it?" He leant forward, excited. She looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Is the rest of your team there?" She asked. "I want them to hear this." Jack called them over. "Now, Jack, please share with the class what you believe the rectangular prism to be."

"An explosive of some sort."

"Yup..." She popped the 'p', then smirked at him evilly. "It's a Xargonmas gift – all wrapped up prettily singing a carol on repeat." Her eyes bored into his. "It's just a present." Owen, Gwen, Tosh and Ianto laughed while Jack looked embarrassed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go attend to my date now." She stood up, ready to go to the camera and turn it off.

"Magenta?" Jack asked.

"Yeah?"

"You look nice."

"Thanks." She shot him a rare smile, and turned the camera off, leaving him to ponder why she looked so familiar.

Magenta shut the bedroom door behind her.

"Sorry, my uncle needed a favour." She lied smoothly... 'cept it wasn't really a lie...

"It's fine." There was a knock at the door. Magenta moved to answer it silently. There stood Logan. Her eyes narrowed.

"Can I come in?" He asked.

"No." The bathroom door opened, and there was Allie with her eyes heavily emphasised and her lips coated in shimmery silver-pink gloss. She had tried to look older and sexier... it hadn't really worked, but she still looked nice. She already had her shoes on and was carrying a small bag. Magenta, on the other hand, was carrying nothing.

"Can we go now?" Allie asked. She had been very corrupted by Magenta's friends in her half-sister's absence.

"Sure."

They met with Lauren and her date, Jeff, and Sylvie and her date Alex at the Italian restaurant where the group would have dinner together. Incidentally, it was the same night Harry Saxon was taking his wife out as a 'Good Press' thing. So, when the 8 teenagers rocked up, they had to battle their way through all the press and wait for ages to be seated – the staff were preoccupied trying to move the paparazzi away. As they stood, waiting for the stewardess to arrive, Magenta picked up on a constant, repetitive drumming echoing in her mind. She perused the customers before she focused on Harold Saxon. Focusing hard, she was able to pick up on the double heart beat above the pointless noise of everyone else. He was discretely glancing around, trying to find the source of the singing while trying to maintain a conversation with Lucy. Their eyes locked. Before anything else could happen, a waitress broke their gaze and Magenta looked away.

_What are you staring at?_ She thought at him, not sure if he could hear her.

_It's been a long time since I heard such lovely singing._

_And it's been a long time since I heard such gay drumming. _She shot back. He had dropped his conversation with his wife, concentrating instead on Magenta. Lucy looked confused, but then followed his line of vision to find him staring at a beautiful girl, seemingly unaware of his attentions and waiting impatiently to be seated. She rolled her eyes, completely unaware of their mental conversation. The paparazzi, too, picked up on the fact.

_Feisty. I like that. _Harold said.

_Pedophile, mmm, I like that. _He chuckled, disturbing his wife. Timelords had a slightly loose idea of age gaps.

_What are you doing here?_

_Waiting to eat, what do you think?_

_No, I mean why are you here on the planet of the apes?_

_I got stuck here. A mutual acquaintance of ours, apparently._

_Who?_

But they couldn't continue, as the Master had to focus on his wife, who was well aware that the paparazzi would jump on the fact that he favoured staring at teenagers to conversing with Lucy.

* * *

_Doesn't matter who. I'm going to a dance after this. At Bellgrave Hall. Make up some crap about education or the youth of today and lead the press their. I wanna have some fun._ Then her group was seated by the frazzled stewardess and the conversation came to a complete halt.

They were at the formal now, and Magenta watched from the shadows as Allie danced with Logan. Brendan stood on one side with Lauren, consoling her after she had seen her date dancing with Megan Hailing. As Magenta pried into Brendan's mind, she saw something she'd expected. She bit her lip in amusement. _Well_, that was interesting. Before she could think about it more, she heard drums getting louder and presumably closer. Ah, so he had decided to come then. She concentrated, trying to get past to sound of feet shuffling in a slow-dance to a tacky piece of wannabe-classical. There were others with him, press, presumably. He was talking. They were right outside now, and the supervising teachers had noticed. They had subtly moved off to check out the attention, only to be blinded with flashes. She focused on his speaking.

"_The education system needs a reform. Take, for instance, this dance for the Sixth Form. The students had to pay..." _He paused for a moment.

_£50. _She supplied.

"_£50 each for this dance at no profit to the school. Many of the students were unable to attend," _He paused again.

_22 of us aren't here._

"_22, to be exact. Now, to you, what does that say about the economic situation of the area? And the government isn't supplying them with the finances they need to even hold a simple dance."_

_That's complete bullshit, isn't it? _She thought at him as he waffled on. He didn't answer.

"_I've spoken to one of their most talented students. She hasn't been able to reach her full potential because classes are overfull, teachers are overworked and funds are sorely lacking." _ Magenta chuckled at him in his mind. _Shut up_. He shot at her. As he made his speech about the youth of today etc., about half of the students had drifted outside, Magenta among them. As 'Harold Saxon' finished his speech, the press drifted off to interview the students. The man himself had casually made his way over to Magenta.

"Is this what you had in mind?"

"No quite, but it's stressing the G-man out." She pointed out Mr Gregson. He was frantically trying to stop the journos from interviewing his students – every word exchanged was a potential law suit and a bad reputation. The Master laughed.

"So, who's the mutual aquaintance of ours who stuck you here?"

"Well, he dumped me here, but then he came back but I chose to stay here. World domination, you know." She avoided his question skillfully.

"Yes, but who is he?"

"I used to refer to him as 'The Bastard', but then he came back for me."

"Okay, but who _is_ he?"

* * *

"I hardly know." She whispered. "You probably know him better than me – he's an old enemy of yours, but before that, you were childhood buddies. His title begins with a 'D'." He looked puzzled. "Good luck with that." Then she flounced back into the hall, to take pleasure in the teacher's distress.

The next few weeks passed quickly. Exams were held, much to the chagrin of the human students. The next week, on the last Thursday of the year, the grade 12's graduated. It was evening and the school held it in the Assembly Hall. The graduates were wearing black graduation robes and those academic hat thingies. They were on the right side of the stage, walking across and collecting their certificates of graduation when their names were called. Pachabel's Canon was playing. Magenta stared out over the audience. She could hear drums. In the peak of his campaign, only a little before the election, Harold Saxon had come to see her. So had Tom and Allie. The Doctor, however, had not. She had even called him that morning and he said he would be. Oh, well. With his piloting, he might turn up next year some time. At best.

"Magdalena Moncrieff." Mr Gregson called. As she stepped forward, she was greeted by a huge cheer and applause from her younger no-longer peers. She was stunned by the sheer volume she was greeted with. Then the music cut out. She kept walking, confused at the smirk Mr Gregson wore. Greenday's 'She's a Rebel' blared over the speakers. She delved into his mind. As a last tribute to the money she had made him, he had prepared this interruption. She she took her diploma, he leaned forward and covered the microphone.

"I don't know if it's better or worse that you're leaving."

"You do realise you could have cut me in on the bets and I would have made you heaps more, right?" He laughed.

"Any advice in case I come across another one like you?"

* * *

"Don't keep all your passwords taped on the bottom of your stapler. And stay cool Mr. G." He watched her leave with something akin to regret.

A year later, and Magenta was sitting in the crowd, watching her sister walk across the stage. This year, there were no interruptions and no one was stopped and asked for advice. She had moved onto Germany for her first year of University (a medical degree). It was a good thing she spoke German and that she'd already gone through the process of becoming a doctor twice. Every holidays, she would come back and see Tom and Allie. She hadn't seen the Doctor again, but she had spoken to him over the phone. When she was home, she would pick Allie up from school in the little blue Mazda that spend most of it's time in her garage. This year, no one was greeted with anywhere near the amount of noise she had been given.

"Congratulations class of 2008." Mr Gregson gestured towards the congregation of students to his left. He said a few words, then they were free to go. Most of the parents and students stayed, the girls getting emotional while the boys stood there awkwardly. Magenta saw this all and made a 'Come Hither' gesture to Mr Gregson. They had kept up regular contact – mainly emails.

"Mr G.," She greeted.

"Magenta. You don't look any older."

"That's funny, 'coz you do."

"I see all the German hasn't affected your English."

"Actually, I'm concentrating on exactly how I pronounce each word. I always have. I don't think anyone apart from my family have heard my natural accent. Anyway, have you met any others like me yet?" He laughed.

"Not quite like you, no. Although we did have a French exchange student who kept trying to hack the computer system. They never got in, but my god did he try hard." Magenta smiled at him. She looked like she was about to say something, but Allie bounced up, excited.

"Can we go now?" She asked. Under Magenta's influence, she had seen the idiocy of many humans. Not that she was much better, but now she wanted to move on and go back to her father.

"Go to the car. I won't be much longer." Mr Gregson took the opportunity to observe the girls together. They had the same mother, but they looked almost nothing alike. They had the same shaped eyes, and that was it, really. While Magenta held herself regally, Allie was much more relaxed. And they had very different names, although that could have something to do with the fathers.

"Let me guess," Magenta began after Allie had grabbed the keys and run off. "you want to know why we have such different names, right?"

"Yes." He was surprised and impressed at the same time.

"Magdalena is the name my father who, while not biologically my father is pretty much the real deal and incidentally Allison's father, picked for me. On the other hand, we have Allison who was named after some relative... I think. That and Magdalena is a name from my father and mine's first language."

"Really?"

* * *

"Yeah." She smiled dazzlingly at him. "Italian, you know." She lied smoothly. "And, by the way, Allison speaks English as a first language. That's the only language she knows. I, on the other hand, speak English, Italian, German, French, Latin and a very localised Gaelic language called Gallifreyan." _And several alien languages, but you don't need to know that._ She thought. "Oh, and I sound Transylvanian when I'm not focusing on how I'm speaking. Oh yeah, one more thing. Did you know that Brendan Connelly was gay? I've gotta go now, but stay in touch." And then she was gone.

They lived happily for a few months, but then came the Journey's End. Magenta, Allie and Tom were stayed in her apartment. Tom was savouring the moments he had left with her. Only a few months and then she turned '18' and she was free to move on. When the Earth had moved and the Daleks had invaded, Magenta had informed them to stay calm. She herself was happy to sit, practising her on her piano. Allie was still sleepy and decided to have a nap. Tom couldn't understand why they were so relaxed. When it was over, he went back to his flat, shaken but not harmed. And then the Reapers came. The Doctor had created a paradox and they were there to fix it. Allie was asleep and unaware that they were coming. Magenta, on the other hand, heard them from far off and tried to get Allie up. But her sister was too slow. The massive 'healers' crashed through the wall of the flat and devoured Allie in a matter of seconds. Magenta started running inhumanly fast. They were catching up, but slowly. When she got out of the building, she didn't hold back. Fueled by pure adrenalin, she sprinted toward the old (really, really medieval old) Church. It was only a hundred metres away when they caught up. She could feel the beast's jaws almost snap closed over her when suddenly she was pulled away. She could see the Doctor, not her Doctor - the Doctor who had tracked her down when she regenerated. He was in a library with Donna, then trying to get an old man out of a car, then on a ship talking to a blonde waitress, then in the 60's with Martha, and then she stopped.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Notes: 'G'day. A'roight mate?' This Australian, or 'Straiyan' phrase translates into 'Good day, all. How are you?'. /_Chuckles/ _I love Uncyclopedia (Australian-English Dictionary). Oh, by the way, as I've said before, I have absolutely no goddamn idea about the English school system – I tried looking on the internet, but I couldn't find anything and I looked through my books, but I couldn't get anything from them either. So I highly doubt I can find anything on the school system in bloody 1913. And I'm sorry if the line breaker thingies are in the wrong places. I swear they're alright when I type them. just likes being retarded, I guess.

Disclaimer: If I go to Switzerland, can I stop typing these goddamn things? I mean, I forget half the time anyway, but hey, what can you do?

ASDFGHJKLQWERTYUIOPZXCVBNM

When the world stopped spinning, Magenta took in her surroundings. She was in an alley – a dark one, at that. The buildings on either side of her were old or rather they were an old style but were actually fairly new. It was night, and it was cold. She shivered, then breathed in a lungful of cold night air. She was in London, yes, and she was in the early 20th Century. She had always been good at working out where she was – it must be the TARDIS in her.

"Don't move." A cold male voice whispered harshly to her. Then she felt something sharp poking into her back. "Give us your valuables."

* * *

"In case you haven't noticed, I don't have anything." She pointed out, indignant. "Well, apart from my clothes, and even those aren't really what you're after." She was right, jeans and a black singlet probably weren't what her mugger wanted. Well, truth be told, she was wearing a sapphire ring, but he didn't need to know that if he hadn't noticed it already. But then the knife plunged deeper, right into her body. She couldn't breath – he must have got her diaphragm. Was it going to be a mugger for the next 11 times as well? She simply stood there, listening to her murderer race away. She was torn between having a new face or keeping her old one – maybe she should experiment by keeping the features the same and seeing what happened. Yes, she would do that. It was hard to concentrate due to oxygen deprivation. She closed her eyes, black spots appearing and making her dizzy. She could feel the blackness spreading across her consciousness and she knew she was about to regenerate. The golden energy burned through her, every cell in her body changing. And then it was over. She felt different, but didn't have a mirror to see herself in. She noticed the ring she wore slipping down her finger. At least this time she didn't feel the inclination to faint. She walked a few metres to the corner, then looked around from the shadows, hoping there was no one around. She was in luck. She stepped into the street, taking in her surroundings. She wasn't far away from herself – quite literally, she was only a few streets away from where she used to live. Well, that was convenient.

Magenta knocked on her own door. At the moment, her past self was residing in a posh part of London, well looked after by the money she had inherited from her last guardian. She only had to wait a second until she was staring herself in the face. Magenta's past self (MI) looked surprised for only a moment. Wordlessly, Magenta (MIII) smiled expectantly. Equally as silent, MI stepped back to let her in. As soon as she was out of the moonlight, MI gasped.

"What?" MIII asked, alarmed.

"You're blonde!" MI pointed out, shocked.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

* * *

MIII looked at a lock of hair. "Oh! The tragedy! Regeration, you know. Hey, can I look in the mirror?" MI nodded, and MIII went into the bathroom. Well, her facial features were exactly the same, but her hair and eyebrows were blonde. At least it looked natural. Her skin was a shade creamier but it was still as pale and her eyes were exactly the same. She slid up her singlet. Her tattoo was still there, thank god. She had grown attached to the thing, but she wasn't about to get ink done if she lost it.

"Thanks." MIII said to MI. She was going to go to Farringham with one of MI's friends... her old friends... it was confusing. Anyway, she had worked out that's where Martha and the Doctor, or 'John Smith' would be soon enough. Once they were done with whatever they were doing, she could get a lift with them and interfere with the Doctor's actions. Fairly straight forward. She hauled the suitcase of donated clothes behind her, trying to get it to the primitive car in front of her. The man, a vicar moving to the Anglican Church in Farringham, got out to help her. He lifted it up with ease.

"Thank you, Vicar." She said, pretending to be a stranger to him.

* * *

"It's alright, my dear." The Vicar was a nice, grandfatherly old man whom she had taken a liking to. He'd had a son who had married in his early 30's. A few years later his wife had had a child. But then they had died from fever. The child, a young girl, had gone to live with her maternal grandparents. Magenta would sometimes look after her and take her to visit the Vicar. She was seven now. Magenta was looking forward to the hour-long drive ahead of her. The Vicar had been very wise and had strangely modern ideas. She had missed him. For awhile, he had been the closest thing to family she'd had. And then he'd moved to Farringham and she'd never seen him again. Until now. While not confusing to her as it was to some, time travel was not a subject best to dwell on.

By the time they got to Farringham, Magenta and the Vicar (who, by the way, I've decided to call William/Bill) were getting along like a house on fire.

"So the farmer says 'I can't swim!'" Magenta exclaimed, eyes sparkling. Bill chuckled appreciatively.

"Ah, my dear, you are a handful."

"Of course I am." They were on the outskirts of town. Magenta felt strangely self-conscious. Maybe it was the unfamiliar yet too-familiar clothes. Yes, maybe that was it. She was wearing a navy blue full-length skirt and a white blouse. Characteristically, she had left the top few buttons undone. The make of the blouse stopped it from being immodest but it was unusual for a woman to show that much flesh on a regular basis. And she didn't have her hair up, which was frowned down upon in society. But that was the point – disapproval. She seeked it; if not for the reaction, then for the thrill of defiance. A few of the village people (no, not the YMCA dudes) were pointing at them from outside in farms and inside their houses. If she really concentrated, she could hear their whispers over the loud hum of the early engine. They had been expecting Bill, yes, but not her.

"_Who's that girl with him? Maybe she's his daughter... or his granddaughter. What do you think, Adam?" _One woman was pestering her husband. Her husband just grumbled at her to be quiet and let him finish his lunch. They were in the centre of town now, and Magenta amused herself watching the shopkeepers and other people gaze at them curiously. As they passed a boy around 17, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, smiled charmingly and winked. He turned red and looked at the ground. She bit her lip in amusement. Bill, who had been watching her out of the corner of his eye, chuckled.

"You're far too much like your cousin Magdalena."

"Yes," She said thoughtfully, "Yes, I am. It's Saturday, right?"

"Yes, Magenta." They pulled up outside the Church. There was a cottage around the back that Bill and Magenta would be staying in. Magenta could provide for herself, having the bank details of... herself, really. "So do you have to work tomorrow or what?" Bill looked at her strangely.

"Why?"

"No reason." But her evil smirk told him differently. "I just think there's going to be a record number of people at the service tomorrow if you're doing it."

Surprisingly, she did nothing to disturb the service. Bill watched as she waited anxiously; for what, he didn't know. It took months before she seemed to relax in any way. It was June, and they were sitting in the small cottage they had taken up residence in. They had led the villagers to believe that she was his orphaned great-niece. Bill, of course, had just gone along with whatever Magenta said; he was a very placid person. They were sitting at the table, eating scones and drinking tea, when Mrs MacCreedy had knocked on the door – Mrs MacCreedy was one of those souls who enjoyed spreading gossip.

"Have you heard, Vicar, that a new teacher and maid are coming to the boys' school?"

"No, indeed I haven't, Mrs MacCreedy." Bill answered politely. Magenta smiled silently. Excellent, they were almost here.

The day finally came – the boys were back at school in July, the new teacher and maid arriving the day before them. Magenta had integrated herself quite well into the society, keeping an eye out for jobs at the school – the closer she could get, the easier her job would be. At the moment, though, she was just walking through the woods near the school, admiring the pretty summer colours. She sat down, leaning against the huge trunk of an old oak, fascinated by the way the light was shining though the canapy, when a wind blew up, blowing her light blue dress slightly. And then came the sound of the universe. She looked up in surprise, but didn't move as she heard the TARDIS appear in the disused shed 10 metres to her left. When Martha stumbled out, hauling an unconscious Doctor behind her, she didn't move, prefering instead to remain unnaturally still. Martha looked confused, but seemed to be on some kind of mission. Magenta groaned as she got up, content where she was.

"You know, it's much easier if you get your luggage out first – the dead body is usually the heaviest." Magenta tilted her head to the side as she spoke.

"What?" Martha asked, startled.

"Chillax, dude." Magenta put on a 'surfer' kind of accent, purposely choosing 21st century slang.

"Who are you?" Martha asked suspiciously.

Magenta walked closer. "I've probably changed a bit since you last saw me. Black hair, white skin? Hates the Doctor's guts? Remember?"

Martha frowned at her. "Magenta?" She asked, clearly uncertain.

"Dude, totally righteous."


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Notes: Please do me a favour and go to the site below and sign the petition!

w ww. stop theremake .com

(Remember to take out the spaces... I really hope that URL showed up)

And an OC I'm introducing... I couldn't think of an original name.

Disclaimer: I, PlazzaBazza, hereby declare that I do not own Doctor Who or Finding Cassie Crazy. They belong to the BBC and Jaclyn Moriarty respectively. Well, I own Magenta and the person (but not the name) of Seb. And then there's Allie, James, Magenta's school friends and teachers, Bill and Enid (who's coming up later)... but apart from them (so far), I own nothing. Oh! Any other students and/or teachers and/or citizens of Farringham that I make up are mine. Sort of.

Magenta leant against the Church doors, sketching the village stretched out before her, when Martha sat down next to her.

"I don't think I've ever worked so hard in my life." Martha stated, pulling at the collar of her maid's uniform.

"Pre-war England not the best place for you then?"

Martha snorted. "Hardly. And these clothes. God, covering up everything doesn't achieve much, apart from extreme discomfort." Martha eyed the light blue dress Magenta was wearing as immodestly as she could get away with.

"Weren't you wearing that dress last week?"

"Yes. It might be a strange concept to you, but even us rich people," She put on a ridiculously posh accent, "Must reuse this thing you call clothing."

Martha laughed. "At least you can choose what you wear."

"Not really. If it were up to me, I'd be walking around in jeans and a t-shirt." They were interrupted by Bill walking up to them.  
"Good day, ladies."

"Morning, Bill." Magenta greeted cheerfully.

"Good morning, Vicar." Martha lowered her eyes.

"I'm afraid I must ask you to move, as I must prepare for the service."

* * *

"Sorry." Magenta hoisted herself up, helping Martha up at the same time.

* * *

It was around 9.30 the same morning that Magenta caught a glimpse of Mr Smith for the first time while he wasn't unconscious. She had hidden herself on the supporting beams that went horizontally across the church's ceiling. She balanced easily, surveying the audience from where no one could see her. Martha, she noted, was absent. There were two places one could go for a church service on a Sunday morning. The first was the church. The second was the school. Mr Smith, it had seemed, had elected to try the church as opposed to sitting among a mass of tired, fidgety boys. Good on him. Magenta considered her next action for a moment before executing in. She slowly sank into his mind, careful not to do anything to disturb his thoughts. There were no traces of the Doctor which was probably a good thing. He was thinking about... her. Magenta. He was thinking about Magenta. He was remembering seeing her back in the village with Hutchinson, hearing Martha talk about her, remembering thinking her name was exotic. And he remembered confiscating a note from Peter Ascott to Michael Hartford. 'Tonight's one of Magenta's drop-off nights.' It read. Magenta smiled. It was a 'get-even-richer-quick' scheme – she would get whatever the boys needed (homework, research, alcohol, smokes, porn but no sex etc.) and get however much they were willing to pay (as long as it covered the cost of the item and profit) usually it depended on how desperate they were, though. She'd only been in business a week but interest was climbing quickly. She pulled her attention back to Mr Smith's mind. He was recalling an overheard conversation between Baines and Ascott. They were talking about her in a non-platonic way. A _very_ non-platonic way. Now Mr Smith was trying to put together what he knew of her to visually find her. He knew she had long blonde hair, was tall but not as tall as him, was slender and looked graceful and should by all rights be there. She was, after all, posing as the Vicar's great-niece or something like that. Of course, Mr Smith was overtly trying to find her as everyone stood to say a grace. He wouldn't be able to, though. She pulled herself out of his mind (That sounded dirty) and watched as the villagers drifted out of the Church. When they were gone, Mr Smith was the last to leave, she dropped down, not really surprising Bill. At that moment, Mr Smith turned around just in time to see her jump from the rafters to land, crouched with her blonde hair reaching the ground, on the Church floor.

"I'm coming!" Magenta yelled at whoever was at the door. The visitor had interrupted a lazy Sunday lunch which she and Bill had just sat down to. She opened the door to find Martha standing there in her maid's uniform holding a letter.

"What can I do for you?" Magenta asked.

"Mr Rocastle asked me to give this to you." Martha handed her the envelope. "He wants you to teach at the school."

"Teach what?"

"Music." Martha paused at Magenta slightly raising her eyebrows. "He's got a few complaints from some parents about the 'inadequate results' the bands and choirs receive so I casually made a remark about you playing about half the instruments in an orchestra."

"I know the theory behind most Western instruments and I can play most of them as well... sort of. How did you know that?"

"I saw that music room in your flat." Martha reminded her.

"Yes, I know that. But how did you know I could actually play them?"

"Why keep something if you can't use it?"

"Try telling that to the serious eBay bidders. Anyway, I get the feeling he's not exactly an 'equal opportunities' kinda guy. Even if he was, I only look like I'm in my mid- to late-teens. Early twenties with make-up and clothes."

"He's not married." Martha remarked.

"So?"

"So he asked me who you were and I said you were relatively tall, slender, blonde, young and very pretty. He reacted very positively."

"Thank you, Martha. I really need a perverted old man taking a special interest in me."

"At least you're getting to the school." Martha commented, trying to be positive. Magenta made a face.

"I didn't really need help with that but thanks anyway; you've just made my job a lot easier."

"And what is your job?"

Magenta almost-smiled mysteriously. "To save my arse. And that of my sister..." Her expression changed to one of shocked realisation. "My sister..." Then she shook her head. "And my brother, but he's with daddy dearest so I think he'll be okay. Just as long as he stays inside. Anyway, was there anything else you wanted?"

"No – just the letter."

"Thanks, I'll see you when I see you."

"Yeah, bye." Then Martha left.

"Who was that, dear?" Bill called out from the table.

"A friend of mine. Apparently I've been offered a job." Magenta replied, going back to their lunch. She opened the letter, scanning it briefly.

_Dear Miss Moncrieff,_

_It has come to my attention... _blah blah blah... _suitable for the post of... _blah blah blah... _you will be offered board at the school and _insert salary here etc.

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Mr Robert Rocastle,_

_Headmaster of _more drabble.

The next day, Magenta dressed in her blue dress and went up to the school to see Mr Rocastle. Or to make an appointment to see him, anyway. It was around 10 in the morning, and all the boys were in class. She walked across the lobby, surprised to see Martha and another woman she didn't know scrubbing the floor. She didn't say anything as she passed, but made eye contact with Martha and almost-smiled.

"Good morning, miss." The other woman greeted her.

"Good morning, Martha's work associate." 'Martha's work associate' looked amused when Magenta acknowledged her as she passed. She moved with purpose to the Headmaster's office, following his thoughts. She knocked on the oak door.

"Come in." Mr Rocastle called. She opened the door, looking the part of perfection.

"Mr Rocastle?" She asked sweetly.

"Ah, you must be Miss Moncrieff."

"Yes, sir. I believe you wanted to see me about the post of music teacher..."

A half hour later, after Mr Rocastle had outlined the responsibilities, expectations, income, board and her schedule etc., there was a knock at the door, followed by a man in his mid-twenties poking his head around the door.

"Ah, yes. Mr Mantegna. Do come in." Mr Rocastle said. "Miss Moncrieff, please allow me to introduce Mr Sebastian Mantegna. Mr Mantegna, this is Miss Magenta Moncrieff. She will be your musical counter part while teaching the boys." Seb (I'm not gonna type 'Mr Mantegna' everytime I refer to him) smiled and shook her hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Moncrieff."

"It's a pleasure, Mr Mantegna." She replied, almost-smiling.

"Your quarters will be situated next to Mr Mantegna's. He can show you where things are around the school."

"That's very kind of you, Mr Mantegna."

"Not at all, Miss Moncrieff."

"I'll leave you two to it." Mr Rocastle said, hinting for them to leave.

"Thank you, Mr Rocastle." Magenta managed as Seb guided her out of the office. A bell rang and the boys rushed out of classrooms; walking calmly past the teachers then running when they thought they were out of sight. Then the bell rang again and the panic was less subtle. They scurried like ants into classrooms and down stairs until Magenta and Seb were left alone.

"Just between you an me," He leant down and lowered his voice, "I know some boys who would be very happy to help you move."

"That's nice of them. Let me guess; detention?" She replied in the same tone. He laughed.

"Yes, detention."

"Just send them around to the cottage in the church yard whenever you want. I might need some time to pack, though."

"Oh, I'm sure they'd love to help you do that, too." Seb commented with a wry smile. Magenta exhaled in a way that could be a laugh.

"No, really, it's okay. I don't really have that much stuff to move."

Seb shrugged. "The offer still stands."

"And here we have your quarters." Seb gestured to the door. "And to your left you'll find mine. Really, if you do need anything, feel free to ask."

"Thank you, Mr Mantegna. Just one thing – do you teach the orchestra _and_ the choir?"

"That I do, yes."

"When are the rehearsals?"

"They both start at 4pm, choir is Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Band is on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday."

"And we have Sunday off?"

"Yes. So if you're starting today, I can escort you to where the choir rehearses, if you would like that."

Magenta smiled. "Thank you, Mr Mantegna."

Next on 'The Unwanted':

"So, what did you think?" Mr Mantegna asked.

"Of the choir?" Magenta clarified.

"Yes."

"..."

Sorry it took ages to update. It's just that I had holidays so I got lazy and then my computer was occupied with cracking a few passwords and I killed the graphics interface to make it faster so I couldn't do anything and I've waited like a week because the teachers seemed to have forgotten it's the first week. According to them, it's the middle of the term.


	12. Chapter 12

a href=".com/" img src="" border="0" alt="Stop the Remake of The Rocky Horror Picture Show" /a

Author's Notes at bottom of page.

"How come I have to do this?" Martha grumbled. She and Magenta were walking through the woods, taking a short cut to get to the school and carrying Magenta's bags.

"'Cause I needed help and it was this or scrub floors." Magenta retorted. Martha opened and shut her mouth several times. "Yeah, I thought so." Magenta paused. "Have you heard the choir practicing?"

"No, sorry. Why?"

"I just wanna know if I'll lose my hearing or not." She considered her options for a moment then shrugged. "Eh."

Her left eye twitched.

"So, what do you think?"

"Of the choir?" She clarified. Seb nodded. "..."

"Well?" Seb prompted. Magenta looked over the boys sitting before her. She guessed there were about 75 of them all up. It would be a shame to break their hearts. At an all boys school, she was extremely surprised there were so many in the choir and none of them had any visible injuries. In the 21st century, a boy in the choir at an all boys school... well, everyone can get used to pain after long enough, right?

"You should sing standing up." She finally announced. Seb and his students looked surprised. "What? It's like... one of the, uh, fundamentals of singing at your full potential... sort of... actually... yeah." She said, fumbling awkwardly for something non-committal to say. He considered it for a moment.

"I suppose you're right. Boys," He turned to the choir. "Standing up, please. Let's try it again for Miss Moncrieff." It was all Magenta could do not to cry.

Martha found Magenta in the music classroom, sitting at the piano and staring blankly at the wall.

"What are you doing?" She asked curiously. Magenta frowned, not breaking her gaze.

"Trying to rid myself of the memory. My god, those boys... they make the most god-awful sound I've ever heard. Ever." She sighed and let her hands fall silently to rest on the piano keys. She absentmindedly began playing a soft melody with her right hand, the other laying still. She slowed, stopped, then began again.

"Martha," She said, looking as though she'd had an epiphany. "I think... I think..." She stopped suddenly, changing her mind about what she was going to say. "There's someone outside." Martha opened the door to find Mr Smith hovering outside. He looked embarrassed at being caught. Martha looked down, trying to hide her emotion while Magenta regarded him with mild curiosity.

"Right, well, hello. Just thought I'd introduced myself."

"Okay." Magenta said expectantly.

"Yes, well, I'm Mr Smith. That's John Smith. Yes well." He looked painfully awkward. Magenta knew she could quite easily resolve the tension with a simple smile or a friendly gesture, but she enjoyed people's emotional turmoil.

"Yes, well. I'm Miss Moncrieff. That's Magenta Moncrieff. Yes well." She mimicked, fairly certain he wouldn't pick it up.

"Goodbye." He muttered before leaving, slamming the door shut behind him. Magenta snickered. Well, she _almost_ snickered. Her constitution stopped her from actually expressing any form of amusement.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later in the evening, she and Martha were talking about Mr Smith in Magenta's new room. "He's curious." She commented. "I wonder why." John Smith's curiosity was strange but not entirely misplaced. A curiosity Magenta was extremely interested in. In finding what fueled it. In finding what exactly he wanted to know about her. In finding out exactly what he _did_ know about her. There was a knock at her door. A relatively pretty girl with mousy hair opened it without waiting for an invitation. Magenta could see she was a few years older than Martha and wearing a maid's uniform identical to the one Martha was wearing.

"Miss Moncrieff," Martha began, adopting a professional persona, "This is one of my colleagues, Enid Thatcher."

"If you don't mind, miss," Enid said, giving the impression she'd rather be anywhere but here. "I've been appointed to serve you."

"Serve me?" Magenta looked startled.  
"Yes miss. You and three others so don't feel special." Enid replied with disdain.

"I don't really... need anything...right now." Magenta replied slowly. Enid remained where she was standing. "Uh, you can go if you want." Enid was gone before they could say 'Weeping Angel'.

"As I was saying-" There was a knock at the door. "Oh, what is it _now_?" Magenta huffed. "Come in." It was Seb.

"Good day, Miss Moncrieff.'

"Good day, Mister Mantegna."

"Martha." He said, pointedly.

"Oh, right. I'll be going, then. See you later."

xxxxxxxx

Seb and Magenta went for a walk down to the village pub.

"I'm sorry. I should have warned you." Seb said.

"No, it's fine." It wasn't. "I guess I just have my work cut out for me, then."

"Mmmmmm." Seb replied.

"What if we ran tutorials, you know, for smaller groups? So it would be easier to address individual issues?"

"Yes. That's a good idea." They walked in silence for a few minutes.

"How old do you think I am?" Magenta asked abruptly. "I know it's a slightly... impertinent question but..." She shrugged. Seb studied her face.

"Based on your physical aspects, I'd say around 16 but there's something about you-" He cut himself off, perhaps realising that now _he_ was being the impertinent one.

"Please tell me."

"There's something about you that makes you seem so much older." Seb finished poetically. Magenta gave him her almost-sort-of-in-a-way smile.

"So, about the groups..."

xxxxxx

The next day, Seb and Magenta were standing in front of the band. It was slightly smaller than the choir and extremely unbalanced. Only 9 of the 50 students were playing woodwind instruments. Unlike the choir, they didn't make Magenta want to stab herself.

"Okay boys," She started, "You this paper?" She held a small pile of paper in the air. "Using this pen," She held up a pen. "You will write your name, age and instrument down in a list at the end of rehearsal which, coincidentally, is around about now. There will be no rehearsals until I say so. Instead, you will all attend tutorials in small, intimate," Her eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement, "groups. I will notify you of when and where they are to be held. Enjoy the break while it lasts." The boys scrabbled to write their details down and get the hell out of there, hardly daring to believe their good luck.

xxxxx

Magenta was about to walk to the TARDIS. As she set off, she could sense someone watching her. Turning around abruptly, she couldn't see anyone immediate. Shifting her gaze upwards, she locked eyes with Mr Smith who was watching her from his window. It was a strange moments. Neither one of them was embarrassed and neither looked away. As he watched her, it occurred to him how intense she seemed with the sun setting behind her. A gentle breeze blew her long blonde hair around her. An image arose in his mind. A woman who looked older and similar to Magenta was surrounded by white-gold light.

_Everything must come to dust... all things. Everything dies._

She turned around and resumed walking. Mr Smith shook his head. What had just happened? Looking around wildly, he spied his journal, conveniently placed on his desk next to his favourite pen. He bounded over to it and wrote down. It wasn't the first image like this to appear to his mind. It was, however, the first to appear while he was awake. The sequence kept playing through his head until the sun had gone down and he was sure she hadn't returned. He realised that this was the first time in his life he had felt the need for alcohol so acutely. He grabbed his coat and started off down the corridor. But before he could even get to the stairs, the Matron ambushed him.

"Good evening, Mr Smith."

"Good evening, Matron." He replied politely. She smiled up at him.

"Were you going out somewhere?"

"Yes." He answered shortly. It was only after she looked affronted that he realised he was being rude. "Yes, I was going down to the pub. Would you allow me to escort you there?" The Matron looked unbelievably eager. "Yes, I would like that very much."

a href=".com/" img src="" border="0" alt="Stop the Remake of The Rocky Horror Picture Show" /a

xxxxx

Hey dudes and dudettes. I would apologise but I read this other fic that was the most god-awful... _thing_ I'd ever read. So, naturally, I kept reading it (out of morbid curiousity). So this one chapter, in the author's notes, the author apologised for not updating in ages and I thought 'Jesus Christ! How arrogant can you get?' because, as I said before, it was the most god-awful thing I'd ever read and couldn't imagine anyone actually caring enough to want more of it. Therefore, I'm not entirely sure I should apologise coz I'm not sure anyone cares that much. _But_ if you do, I thank you and apologise for me being so lazy. The strange this is, I had this chapter just sitting on my computer (GO LINUX! WOOOO!) but I never uploaded it. So, yeah. Anyway. I have a bad habit of not updating in months. Disclaimer: Yeah. I don't own Doctor Who. I _did_ write an article on Billie Piper and uncyclopedia(dot)org like, last year or the year before that. It's been slightly mutilated. But hey, that's fine.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Wow, go me! Second update in less than a year! Apart from the fact I have homework I'm meant to be doing... yeah... So other than that! _**I realise that the situations I write would usually imply sexual tension, but here, it's not.**_ It's just a device to mess around with the Matron. And to introduce a natural disaster. And 'coz I was bored and have this other thing planned that seems boring without something to cause it other than homesickness. And remember that in 1913, you were 21 when you became an adult. Other than that... hope everyone has a pheasant plucking good time reading it. Oh yeah, and there's a _massive_ reference in here to The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Can anyone see it? The songs I used: Lullaby – Billy Joel, Danny Boy - ?, and (in English) Superheroes – Richard O'Brien/Susan Sarandon/Barry Bostwick/Charles Gray. Italics are generally songs. And I'm sorry about the rough translation I did of the song. My Italian's a little rusty.

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who/anything else related to this fic except for the original creations but not necessarily their names.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Better, boys. You're getting better." Magenta encouraged the small group of singers. "Let's go from bar sixty-nine." She almost-smiled and almost-laughed. "Sixty-nine..." The boys looked up at her strangely. "Anyway, so bar sixty-nine. One-two-three-and..."

_My life goes on_

_In endless song_

_Above Earth's lamentations_

_I hear the real_

_Though far off hymn_

_That hails a new creation_

They sang before Magenta stopped them.

"That's well done boys. I think that's all we'll really get through today so you can go. Frolick... be free..." And with that, the boys were gone. With a slight look of amusement, Magenta gathered her sheet music and was about to leave, only to run into Mr Smith.

"Good evening Miss Moncrieff."

"Innit, though?" She replied quietly.

"Pardon?"

"Yes, Mister Smith, it is." There was a slightly awkward silence. "You have a strange habit of running into me like this."

"Yes," He replied thoughtfully, "I suppose I do." A cold yet gentle breeze blew through the music room's open window. Mr Smith was reminded of the last time he had seen her. Magenta shivered. This incarnation seemed to be particularly sensitive to the temperature. The sound of thunder drew their attention to the window. Outside, they could see storm clouds, heavy, black and pendulous rapidly advancing.

"Oh, god." Magenta said succinctly.

"Quite." Mr Smith replied. Magenta went over to close the window, but was stunned by what she saw. In the distance, she could see trees being bent over by the gale-force winds the storm was bringing. To the left and right of the school, grey-green clouds were settling over the village. To Mr Smith, it sounded like she hissed. In reality, she had sworn in Gallifreyan; a language she very rarely spoke despite it being her first. Slightly alarmed by the sound she had made, he bounded over in a very Doctor-esque manner to see what could prompt such a noise.

"Damn." He said, strong language for the day. He was leaning over her, unintentionally pressing his body against her. Magenta had one foot on the window ledge, trying to see out further. She let out a surprised 'oh' when she lost her balance and began to fall out of the window.

"I've got you." Mr Smith said. And, indeed, he had. He'd grabbed her by the waist, securing her against him.

"Oh, god. Thank you." She sighed with relief. Her hearts were beating wildly. "My hearts-" She realised what she was about to say and tried to save it. "My heart's going crazy." Not realising what he was doing, he put one hand over where her left heart was.

"Wow."

"Yeah." They were still standing with her back against his front, not facing each other. "Thank you so much." She reinforced. Any reply he would have made was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. They both whipped around, instantly losing all physical contact with each other. It was Nurse Redfern.

"Good evening Mister Smith." She greeted. "Miss Moncrieff." She said, much more coldly. "And what were you two up to on such gloomy evening?" Deciding to play with the elder woman's mind, Magenta answered first, wondering what Mister Smith would make of it.

"That's rather personal, don't you think?" Magenta replied, voice laden with implications. The Matron raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing inappropriate, I hope, Mister Smith." Mister Smith rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Well... uh... that's subjective." He said, catching on to what Magenta was doing.

"Subjective is it? 'Subjective' activities with a sixteen-year-old?"

"Actually, I'm seventeen. Eighteen on Saturday."

"Really?" Mr Smith asked her.

"Yeah, just three more years..." She said, looked up at him a little too innocently. The Matron scowled and narrowed her eyes.

"Right then. Continue with your 'subjective' activities. Good day." There was a second of silence before they started laughing. Well, Mr Smith was laughing, Magenta covered her mouth with her hand and giggled softly, like she had forgotten how to. It was a major turning point. When Mr Smith's face was pink and Magenta's stark white cheeks had acquired a splash of colour, they were interrupted again, this time by natural causes. The storm was almost upon them, rapidly covering the darkening sky. The rain had already started coming in through the window. On the upside, the ice between Mr Smith and Magenta was permanently broken.

"I'll see you later." Magenta said as a mode of 'goodbye'.

"Yes. Goodbye." Mr Smith replied as she left, slightly bewildered and wondering what just happened.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was 10 pm, hours had passed since the encounter in the music room, and the storm- no, The Storm. It was such a big blow out, it deserved capitalisation. Anyway, The Storm was in full swing. Well, that's what they thought when all of a sudden in got a hell of a lot worse. Hail, rain, sleet, thunder and lightning were assaulting the school relentlessly. There was a knock, barely audible, at Magenta's door. She threw a dressing gown over her white night dress and answered it. There was Timothy Latimer.

"Pardon the interruption Miss Moncrieff, but the Headmaster has requested that all the teachers assemble in his office."

"Uh, okay. Just give me a second to get changed-"

"No. He requested that you were to come straight away."

"Thank you, Timothy. On your way." Tim said goodnight and continued on his assignment. Magenta climbed the stairs, shivering in the freezing cold. She got to the Mr Rocastle's office to find most of her colleagues in various forms of nightwear. They stood in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the storm while the last of the staff drifted in.  
"I think that's everyone." Mr Rocastle began. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I apologise for the interruption but we have a crisis on our hands here. We've never been faced with this kind of issue before. Does anyone have any suggestions?"

"You don't have a protocol for this kind of thing?" Magenta asked curiously. Mr Rocastle looked slightly embarrassed.

"No, I'm afraid we don't."

Magenta shrugged. "When I was at school, if something like this happened, we went into lock down." Seeing their confused faces, she sighed and elaborated. "We locked all the doors and windows and stayed where we were until the crisis was over. We had to move away from the doors and windows and follow all directions issued by the teacher in charge. And, if we could, we always had fun trying to fit under our desks. So... yeah." The teachers looked intrigued.

"How would we go about initiating this lock down?" Mr Rocastle asked. Magenta tilted her head and almost-smiled.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Boys, can I have some quiet please?" The Matron was unsuccessfully trying to get Dorm 31's attention. "Boys!" She repeated more forcefully. Still no quiet.

"OI!" Magenta yelled. It was dead silence.

"Thank you," Nurse Redfern said, exasperated. "Now, lock the windows." The boys looked at her dubiously before a few of them locked the already closed windows. "Good. Mister Mantegna and Enid will stay with you. Don't do anything without their permission." The boys looked tired and confused. The Matron, Magenta and the small group of teachers and staff following them moved onto the next dorm and repeated the process over and over until there was only Magenta, Mr Smith and Nurse Redfern left and only one dorm that needed direction. Standing outside the door, there was an awkward silence. A _very _ awkward silence.

"'Kay, so I'll go in here with J-, uh, Mister Smith and you can go back to see if any of the other staff needs anything. Like... do the rounds?" Magenta proposed. Mr Smith and the Matron both agreed and went off to their respective jobs.

"Boys, settle down!" Mr Smith tried to command them. "Boys, please!"

"Goddamn it!" Magenta yelled loudly. Again, it was dead silence (not counting the storm raging making her almost inaudible). "Okay, so Mister Smith and I are going to stay in here with you guys tonight. If the windows and stuff aren't locked, like... go lock them. Um, so, you know. Just continue on with whatever the hell it was that you were doing before." The boys whom she was addressing were the oldest in the school. Latimer had returned and was sitting quietly on his bed, staring intently at her.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It had been around 20 minutes when Enid knocked on the door, interrupting Magenta and Mr Smith's quiet conversation.

"Sorry, it's just that there's a boy in Mister Mantegna's dorm who's crying uncontrollably and no one can calm him down." Enid said, eager to relay her message before she forgot it.

"So?" Magenta said slowly.

"He asked if you could go help."

"Um, okay? You just stay here and I'll go... yeah." Magenta replied very slowly before leaving.

-x-x-x-x-x-

As she approached the door, she could hear the young boy's wailing. She entered without knocking to be faced with a nearly hysterical child and what seemed like most of the staff trying to calm him. Everyone turned towards her when she shut the door behind her. The scene was slightly comical; the other boys were covering their ears with anything they could find and at least 10 adults were trying their hand to shut a small child up. The boy in question looked no older than 5. She recognised him as Adam Valmadre, the youngest student at the school. The wailing youngster was drowning out the storm, and that was saying something. Magenta stepped closer to the bed slowly. Her highly tuned ears were picking up something coherent in the child's screaming. 'MUMMY SING MUMMY SING MUMMY SING' He seemed to chant.

"Leave." Magenta said quietly to the other staff surrounding him. "Leave us." And so they went, leaving her to deal with the child.

"_Ho fatto di tutto "_ She began softly. Seeing a slight calming in him, she continued.

"_Dio sa se ci ho provato _

_A cercare la verità_

_Ho anche mentito _

_Ma tutto ciò che so _

_È che dentro di me _

_Sto sanguinando "_

_E i super eroi _

_Vengono a far festa _

_Ad assaggiare la carne _

_No ancor morta _

_E tutto quel che so _

_È che ancora la bestia _

_Sta mangiando _

_E strisciando _

_Sulla superficie del pianeta _

_Degli insetti _

_Chiamati razza umana _

_Persi nel tempo _

_E persi nello spazio _

_E nel significato"_

Adam was only sniffling by the time she had finished. He put out his arms like he expected to be held. Obliging him, she sat on the bed and allowed him to get her in the strongest grip he could manage. There was a soft knock at the door.

"You may come in." A few of the teachers that had been huddled around Adam drifted in.

"'Nother one." He said quietly. When she did not begin immediately, he loudly said, "Another one!"

"_Oh Danny Boy,_

_The pipes, the pipes are calling,_

_From glen to glen_

_And down the mountain side,_

_The summers gone_

_And all the flow'rs are dying_

_It's you, it's you must go and I must bide." _She started off Danny Boy, mesmerizing the occupants of the room. By the time she had finished the song, Adam had lain down and closed his eyes. Magenta tried to leave, but the boy grabbed her dressing gown, pulling it off her.

"'Nother one!" He demanded again.

"_Good night my angel time to close you eyes  
And save these questions for another day  
I think I know what you've been asking me  
I think you know what I've been trying to say_

_I promised I would never leave you  
And you should always know  
Where ever you may go  
No matter where you are  
I never will be far away_

_Good night my angel now it's time to sleep  
And still so many things I want to say  
Remember all the songs you sang for me  
When we went sailing on an emerald bay_

_And like a boat out on the ocean  
I'm rocking you to sleep  
The water's dark and deep  
Inside this ancient heart  
You'll always be a part of me_

_Goodnight my angel now it's time to dream  
And dream how wondeful your life will be  
Someday your child will cry and if you sing this lullaby  
Then in your heart there will always be a part of me_

_Someday we'll all be gone  
But lullabies go on and on  
They never die that's how you and I will be"_

She had sung the song so slowly, that by the time she finished, Adam was finally asleep. When Magenta got up, Adam (who had kept her dressing gown clutched firmly in his hand) successfully pulled it completely off her, leaving her in her simple, form-fitting, virginal white nightgown. She left, shivering violently in the cold, to find the original dorm she had assigned herself. She slipped in silently, to find Mr Smith and Seb sitting at two of the desks in the room and most of the boys still awake yet drowsy. Mr Smith looked up and frowned at her indecent attire. Seb smiled at her. To him, she looked like the epitome of a goddess. How so very close to the truth he was. Latimer was staring intently at her, _again_. '_Why can't I get anything off her?_' Magenta picked up on his thought.

_Because I closed myself off long ago._ She thought. It was true – ever since she was a child, she had worked on closing her mind off from civilisation. At first because she felt invaded every time she and her 'family' visited a predominantly psychic planet. Later in adolescence because she didn't want to reveal the horrors of her life to anyone. Latimer looked like he was about to hurt himself from concentrating so hard. Magenta perched herself on the edge of what was temporarily Seb's desk. She whispered something to him quietly and he smiled. Seb oh-so-subtly looked at Latimer out of the corner of his eye. Magenta leaned forward and whispered some more into his ear, making Seb laugh quietly. She muttered something to him, then flounced over to Mr Smith's desk.

"'Kay, so, is Latimer still staring at me?" She whispered in his ear. Mr Smith turned his gaze slightly at saw the boy's intense gaze focused on Magenta.

"Yes." He whispered back.

"Do you know why?" She asked, whispering, sitting on the space in front of him.

"Not really, sorry." He replied. She sighed, frowned and looked at his hair. "What?" He asked, whispering in her ear again.

"Your hair is... can I just fix this one little thing?"

"Okay." Just as Magenta was about to finish smoothing down Mr Smith's hair (which had gone wild), the Matron pushed the door open without them seeing. To her, it looked like Magenta was caressing Mr Smith's hair while he whispered in her ear. Mr Mantegna followed the Matron's angry gaze to see the same thing. Magenta straightened up and hopped off the desk. She almost-smiled when she saw the Matron and her reaction to Magenta's night wear and her position with Mr Smith.

"Oh, hello. I was just leaving, but I'll see _you_," She pointed to Mr Smith, "Later." And with that, she slipped past the Matron and went back to her room

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A/N: And that was the 13th Chapter. It was around 6 pages and 2589 words so appreciate it. (Shakes fist threateningly) _Appreciate it_. I must say: Fanfiction(dot)net's formatting is a bitch. Plain and simple. So I apologise if it's all unbelievable fucked up.


	14. Chapter 14

The village breathed a collective sigh of relief when the storm slowly eased to heavy rain. The damage wasn't as bad as it could have been; nobody had died or been injured, although the windows and rooves hadn't been so fortunate. Most of the crops were salvagable, though, which was a good thing considering the amount of farming that went on in Farringham. A few trees had been blown over, but had mostly landed in benign places. The school, however, had so many broken windows, it would take them months to replace all of them.. Fortunately, however, the roof had stood its ground. The furniture had to be stacked to sweep up all the broken glass, leaving a period of almost a week (wherein the rain hardly ever let up) while the windows were boarded up and the school cleaned before the boys could resume school.

xxxxxxxxxx

Magenta stood, hands on hips, looking ever-so-slightly displeased at the state of her classroom. The chairs and stands had been hap-hazardly shoved to the side of the room while the windows were covered in bed sheets (they had run out of wood and the music classroom didn't exactly take priority), and the water was leaking in. Now, the powers that be had decided to use the classroom as a temporary store room. Desks and chairs were stacked all over the place, making it impossible to do anything. At all. Ever.

"Are you okay?" Magenta jumped. She had been so focused, she hadn't noticed Martha join her.

"Yeah. I'm just... annoyed. Slightly. Perhaps verging on pissed. But only a little bit." She sighed.

"I was just wondering why the Matron was asking me all those questions." Martha remarked.

"What questions?"

"Oh, you know. Just stuff about how old you were, how long you've known Mr Smith, what kind of relationship you have. The usual." Magenta gave Martha a small smile – something she'd been doing increasingly often.

"Well, you see, I almost fell out of a window and Mr Smith grabbed me and then the Matron walked in and thought it looked compromising. So, naturally, we fed her suspisions. And then we were talking and I was fixing his hair and she saw it and took it the wrong way. So, yeah. I think she thinks we're having sex or something. Which would be like, incest, so... " Magenta trailed off, shivered and made a face. Martha ingested the information, paying particular notice to the implication that Magenta and the Doctor were related.

Magenta sighed. "Look what I found." She dug in her pocket for a second before pulling out the fob watch that contained the Doctor's essence.

"No way! Where'd you get this? I thought it was in his room." Martha exclaimed.

"Oh, it was," Magenta replied breezily, "As I said, I found it... on his mantle... while he was teaching. But, you know, finders keepers. Here." Magenta was about to hand Martha the watch, when Magenta felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and dropped the watch.

"Jesus Christ!" She exclaimed, whipping around to see the offender was. She glared at Seb. "Don't do that!"

"My apologies. I just came down to see how our classroom was fairing."

Magenta laughed.

"Is something funny, Miss Moncrieff?" He asked.

"You just said you 'came down'." She said, giving him a small yet pleasant smile. Seb didn't get it. Magenta shook her head. "Nevermind." Seb stepped forward, inadvertently kicking the watch under the mess of tables and chairs. Magenta sighed again.

"Fan-friggin'-tastic."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A half hour later, and the watch remained where it had stopped and apparently impossible to reach.


	15. Chapter 15

Author's notes: So here's today's fun fact: The two people Barbie and Ken were named after were the creator of Barbie's children. So real-life Barbie and Ken are related (siblings). So maybe that's why they never got married and had children. I say there's no time like the present for writing. And the present is 12.30 in the morning. w00t! Translations at the bottom of the page. So, you know how I'm doing that flashback at the end of the chapter thing? Well, this chapter has it at the beginning. This chapter delves into some pretty heavy themes. It makes me slightly uncomfortable, but the whole story centres around a character that's had some pretty heavy stuff happen to her. Yeah, so I know I haven't updated in forever. I've had this chapter sitting on my computer for awhile, just pondering whether or not I should upload it or change it.

**WARNING: To young readers who shouldn't be reading this stuff (don't worry, I do that constantly) this chapters and the next few chapters make references (note that they are only references... sort of) to torture, sexual assault and incest. I really thought about whether or not to re-write it and soften it up/completely change it, but I always planned for the Valeyard (who may not really be the Valeyard, but a Valeyard) to come back. And I always planned for it to happen around this time, but then I got around to it and I just... I dunno. But there's no graphic descriptions, just before and the next chapter deals with after. I'm sure it's not nearly as bad as a lot of the stuff on fanfiction(dot)net.**

Disclaimer: I own it not. That would be the BBC.

=-=-=-=-=-=

_James lay awake. It was late, he should be asleep. And he had been, but then he'd had a dream. It was the same dream he had almost every night. A beautiful blonde woman whom looked a year or two younger than him was lying on their bed in a white nightdress. He would kiss her, and her amber eyes would open. Silently, he smiled and his finger would trace the scar on her left hand. James' fingers would trace it up and down, then up to the wedding ring on her finger. Almost every night since he was 12, he would have this dream. When he first had the dream, he felt tall and very strange. Now, at 18, he realised that he had grown into this dream version of himself. The girl looked so familiar, like a word on the tip of his tongue. And over the years, he had slowly developed a passion for her. These nightly visions were his favourite time of day. The passion slowly became an obsession. At 13, he had seen his older sister in the moonlight. It was just for a second, but it was enough for him to recognise the startling resemblance between them; a resemblance that he wrote off, unwilling to face the psychological and moral issues that stemmed from it._

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"You feel very cold."

"Hmmm." It was awkward. Very awkward. And very silent. Well, apart from the clock ticking, but silent and awkward nonetheless. Magenta inhaled sharply as Matron pulled the glass from her hand. When she poured the 1913-antiseptic on Magenta's hand, Magenta opened her mouth and formed a perfect 'O', golden tears in her eyes which she refused to let fall. Stitching. Oh, what fun. Oh, but let's not forget about the bandages! Oh, no, the bandages were the most fun of them all.

"All done."

"'Kay."

"Come back and see me tomorrow afternoon."

"'Kay." And with that, Magenta drifted out of the infirmatory and back to her quarters. As soon as she was in private, she hissed "Fucking hell!" and let those tears fall. There was a knock at the door. She groaned. _What is so difficult about me having two seconds to myself?_ When she answered it, she froze before springing into action.

"James!" She cried as she jumped into his arms.

"'Genta!" He cried back, hugging her. _It's her,_ He thought. _Oh my god, it's her. My sister... oh god._

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, Dad went to visit you and Allie, but you were both gone, but he traced you to here and, for reasons that remain ambiguous to me, sent me to look for you." She slid out of their embrace.

"Well, the thing about that... She may be temporarily sort of slightly... eaten."

"Eaten?!"

"Temporarily!" It was then that he noticed the white bandage on her left hand.

"What happened?"

"I went emo." She said sarcastically.

"What's an emo?" James asked. Magenta shook her head.

"Nevermind. My hand and a piece of glass got into aggressive negotiations."

"You know, sometimes you're evasive, sometime's you're excrutiatingly blunt, and sometimes I can't figure you out at all."

Magenta shrugged. "That's the way I like it."

x=x=x=x=x=x=x=x

"Mr Smith!" Nurse Redfern called out. Mr Smith paused and turned around, waiting for her to catch up with him. "Please forgive my... temporary lack of propriety, but would you kindly explain very plainly the nature of your relationship with Miss Moncrieff?" Mr Smith felt like laughing. He had gotten the impression that Miss Moncrieff had a somewhat impish yet somehow nonchalant personality; something she didn't seem to mind exploiting shamelessly. He briefly wondered what she would say in this situation. He could imagine that mischevious smile as she said '_Well, so long as we're forgiving lack of propriety..._' or '_Like he said before, it's all subjective.',_ which made him smile and remember that Matron was still waiting for a reply. Thinking himself incapable of such audacity, he went with a straight, honest answer.

"We're simply colleagues. No less platonic than you and me." Matron looked relieved. "If I may ask, Matron," He found himself saying, "what did you mean by that question?" She had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Well, I thought... I thought..." She stammered, and Mr Smith looked expectantly at her. "When I found you in that classroom, just before the storm hit, it looked... strange."

"Since when does it look strange to save someone from falling out of a window?"

"Is that what you were doing?" Mr Smith nodded 'yes'. "Well what about later that night, in the dormitories?"

"She was simply fixing my hair. We were discussing Latimer. He seems to have developed a keen interest in her."

"But she said she would see you later."

"Matron, have you not noticed that Miss Moncrieff has a particular tendency to draw her amusement from the humiliation and displeasure of others?" He asked rhetorically. Matron looked as if she was ready to be swallowed by the floor.

"I see. Good d-" Matron cut herself off at the sound of a light, musical, female voice coming closer.

"_'...dalla cioccie alla culo'."_ A male baritone exclaimed. That statement, whatever it meant, made the female voice laugh, all the while getting closer. Matron and Mr Smith where greeted with the sight of Magenta and a strange man (James), walking arm in arm.

"V_ecchio sporcaccione._ Oh._" _ Their Italian conversation was abruptly cut short when they saw Matron and Mr Smith. "Matron, Mr Smith. Please, allow me to introduce you to my brother, James. James, this is the Matron, Nurse Redfern, and Mr John Smith. _Sì, lo so. Per favore, non dire nulla." _Matron and Mr Smith seemed confused, unsure whether James spoke English, as they had no idea what Magenta had said to her brother.

"Good day, Matron, Mr Smith. It's a pleasure." James said, in the same charming tone Magenta tended to take when meeting new people. Matron noted that both siblings had completely nondescript, yet completely different accents when speaking English.

"Forgive me, Miss Moncrieff," She said, "But I had no idea you spoke Italian."

"Oh, yes. James and I spent several years with our father in Italy when we were young. You know, of all the languages I know, Italian has always been one of my favourites, followed closely by German because you can yell anything you want to and sound like you're swearing. Oh, that reminds me. Okay, so four linguists were sharing a compartment on a train on their way to an international conference on sound symbolism. One was English, one Spanish, one French and the fourth German. They got into a discussion on whose language was the most eloquent and euphonious. The English linguist said: "Why, English is the most eloquent language. Take for instance the word "butterfly". Butterfly, butterfly... doesn't that word so beautifully express the way this delicate insect flies. It's like flutter-by, flutter-by."

"Oh, no!" said the Spanish linguist, "the word for "butterfly" in Spanish is "maripose". Now, this word expresses so beautifully the vibrant colours on the butterfly's wings. What could be a more apt name for such a brilliant creature? Spanish is the most eloquent language!"

"Papillon!" says the French linguist, "papillon! This word expresses the fragility of the butterfly's wings and body. This is the most fitting name for such a delicate and ethereal insect. French is the most eloquent language!"

At this the German linguist stands up, and demands: "Und vot is rongk mit 'SCHMETTERLING'?"" James and Mr Smith were laughing, but Matron just stared. "Well," Magenta said, resigned. "They thought it was funny."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

James and Magenta were standing outside the TARDIS. As in the TARDIS James had come in, not the one on emergency power in a little shed in the west side of the woods.

"You ready?" He asked, holding her hand in a slightly caressing manner. She looked at him strangely, questioning the movement.

"I dunno. I guess so." She replied. While she and the Doctor were on good terms nowadays, he had still managed to disappoint her (her graduation, Allie's graduation etcetera) and she felt slightly nervous at the prospect of seeing him. Their dynamic changed so dramatically so constantly, she had no idea if he actually wanted to see her or not. She was about to open the door, when the Doctor threw them open, giving her no choice in the matter.

"Hello, daughter." He said quietly.

"Doctor." She greeted. He gave her a look. "Father." She amended, the word sounding foreign on her tongue. The three of them stood in silence for a moment.

"Well," James said, "This is sufficiently awkward. May I suggest we move inside?"

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The three of them were sitting in the loungeroom, sipping tea. I mean, seriously, to use an overused and somewhat ridiculous expression, you could cut the tension/air (whichever you prefer) with a knife.

"Sooo," Magenta said. "You know, I was just kinda wondering how many genes James and I actually share. You know, with me technically being a chimera with, like, 4 different parents or something."

"Hmmm. You know, we could always check." The Doctor said, jumping up energetically. His children followed him to the lab.

_(In that strange French voice that narrator thing on Spongebob uses, if you know what I mean) Half an hour later_

"13 percent. You share 13 percent of your genes."

"Cool. That's like us being... third cousins but siblings at the same time. Strange, yet weirdly awesome." Magenta and James tapped knuckles. Magenta paused and a look of horror crossed her face.

"What? What is it?"

"Two wrong thoughts. At once. Ew. Oh, god. Ew." She said, scrunching up her face. The Doctor knew better than to ask. James, not so much. In fact, James found it endlessly amusing.

"Aw, come on. Tell me."

"Michelle... Barack Obama... reporter... knuckles... fist... Valentines... third... legally..." Was all that he could make out from her very short, quick, disgusted ramble. She breathed in deeply. "Never mind." James shook his head in amusement.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"So, you never told me where Allie is." The Doctor said over tea.

"Ah, yes, well, the thing about that... I believe the phrasing I used on James was 'She may be temporarily sort of slightly... eaten', so, yeah. She may be temporarily sort of slightly eaten. Extremely temporarily. Actually, I changed something just by coming back here, so if logic follows, that reaper should have spat her out. Are you sure you looked everywhere? I tend to keep her in the second draw from the left in the kitchen, so you could go back and..." She trailed off at the expression on the Doctor's face. "Okay, so don't be pissed. I'm fairly certain it's your bloody fault anyway... that's not helping."

"A reaper ate my daughter and you, what? Miraculously found yourself back here? Automatically blamed me? What?" The Doctor said quietly, the fury burning in his eyes.

"Don't take that tone with me! The Earth had just moved through the galaxy into what I'm fairly certain was a little time pocket and Daleks were flying around everywhere, but then they were gone and we were back where the Earth should be and then the reapers just sort of came in and swallowed Allie and I was running and it was about to eat me but then I found myself in London, 1913." The Doctor thought for a second.

"That was probably my fault, actually." He admitted, then frowned. "But what do you mean you just found yourself here?"

"I don't know. I was just running toward this church 'cause of, you know, the reapers. So then one of them caught up with me and was about to eat me, but then I just felt like I was falling and found myself in London, a couple of months ago."

"Falling? Really?"

Magenta looked annoyed. "That's what I said."

"You don't have to be so sharp, you know."

"Yes I do."

"Why?"

Magenta looked down and answered softly, "Because it's all I know how to do. All my life, I've never let anyone get close, never let anyone in. Never wanted too. And acting harshly is the best way to keep people away."

"Is that my fault?" The Doctor asked. Magenta shrugged.

"Could be. Probably is." They sat together quietly for a moment, staring at each other. James listened outside the door. He heard his father say something in a language he had only heard a few times as a very young child, issued from his elder sister's mouth. He heard her reply in the same elegant, eloquent tongue. The conversation continued, and James slunk away, disappointed he couldn't understand anything further.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Martha was slightly confused. She had taken over some of Enid's duties for the afternoon (because Enid was ill), including cleaning Magenta's room. When she got there, she found Magenta sitting on the couch, facing a man she'd introduced as James, her brother. About once every 10 seconds, they would say something completely random in perfect unison.

"Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go." Martha waited 10 seconds, and then came "The saddest thing in the world, is loving someone who used to love you." She had worked out they were going in alphabetical order. 10 seconds later, they both smiled nearly identical smiles and said, "Unworry."

Next was something in French, which Magenta stopped saying half way through, frowning.

"Do you even know what that means?" Magenta asked James, still frowning.

"Yes. So," He repeated the phrase.

"Are you sure? 'Cause I really don't think you do. Like _really_ don't think you do."

James looked impatient. "I _do_ know what it means, I _do_ know..." He trailed off and glanced at Martha, and continued in Italian. Magenta refused to look at him. She stood up angrily, James sounded like he was pleading with her.

"You sick bastard." She whispered sharply and ran, slamming the door on her way out. James looked despondent. Out in the corridor, her escape was delayed by something tall and human.

"Oh, sorry." She muttered to Mr Smith, whose quarters were right next to hers.

"Are you okay?" He asked, taking in her strange facial expression of pain, anger and nausea.

"No, no, no. I have to go. I have," She breathed in an sharp breath. "I have to go." She looked like she was about to cry; she was blatantly obviously not okay. And with that, she ran from the school to the woods, not really knowing where she was going.

"Always running from me." A male voice, sickeningly familiar, commented. Magenta whirled around to see the man she still had nightmares about leaning against a tree. He took a step toward her. She couldn't breathe. Everything seemed to be closing in around her.

"No." She whispered. "No."

"Yes, my dear. I've been following the Doctor, waiting for him to find you again and stay still for long enough to see you. Why did you run? Why did you leave me?" Magenta's vision went fuzzy, fading into black. The last thing she heard was her own voice whispering, "No. Not again."

==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--===-=-=-=-==

When she awoke, she was lying on a bed, her arms and torso bound, her legs strapped together, a gag in her mouth. _He_ was watching her from the foot of the bed.

"My love, you scared me."

Her reply was muffled through the gag. "Just let me untie that for you." _He_ said. Squirming away from _him _when _he_ crawled closer communicated her displeasure.

**Fuck you.**She sent clearly to his mind.

"Well," He replied chuckling, "If you're offering."

**You're a sadistic bastard. Go to hell.**

"Only if I'll be seeing you there."

**Let me go, or I'll let you go.**

"Would you care to explain what you mean by that, love?"

**You seem to be under the impression we're in some sort of romantic relationship. You think you have some right to me. If you don't let me go, it's over. I'll end it. And if you won't let me go, and you won't let me break up with you, I'll end myself. Fairly simple.**

"And how do you intend to 'end' yourself?"

**That's for me to know, and you to find out when they do the autopsy. **

He frowned at her. "Calm down, my love. I'll let you go when you learn obedience. Now, _voulez-vous coucher avec moi cet soir?" _Magenta gasped as best she could while gagged. _  
_**No. No, not you. It can't be you.**

The last thing she saw was _him_ pull out a needle and check it for airbubbles.

=========----============

So, translations:

_Dalla cioccie alla culo – _from tits to arse. Please remember that this was the end of James' sentence, and he was telling Magenta a story.

V_ecchio sporcaccione – _dirty old man.

_Sì, lo so. Per favore, non dire nulla_ – Yes, I know. Please don't say anything. This was said as a warning to James not to comment on the fact that Mr Smith looks almost exactly the same as his dad.

What James said to Magenta that made her run from him... If you didn't get the link between James and the Valeyard, I'll take this moment to explain it. _Voulez-vous coucher avec moi cet soir?_ Means something along the lines of 'Will you sleep with me tonight'. It's French and begins with a V. James said this to Magenta. Anyway. So, how would you feel if your younger brother (who was the only member of your family not to dismiss you as a child) asked if you wanted to have sex? The thing about him eavesdropping is that he's posessive and controlling. Many abusive spouses eavesdrop on conversations. How do I know that? I read one of my mum's social working text books from when she was at uni. Fascinating book, that. Anyway, not the point. Sometime in the next couple of chapters, there's something else I need to explain about James (what made him the way he is, kinda like Dexter but different). Wow, I just realised how often I write spoilers for my own stories without spoiling them.


	16. Chapter 16

SPOILER! Http:// ./new s/article/-/article /5460332/billie-piper-returns-to-doctor-who/. Remove the spaces. That's right. Again.

So, you know, I think we're down to the same 22 people reading this. So if you're one of the faithful, loyal 22, I thank you for your pure awesomeness. If you're not, then you're also magnificent! And please, do tell me if it makes your eyes bleed.

And the next part might not make much sense to you, but there's an explanation and some additional information underneath it. I didn't really want to write really dark, heavy scenes. I know the Valeyard is meant to be the Doctor's last incarnation, but it will all be explained eventually... maybe... if I remember. Anyway. Time has passed since the last chapter. The paragraph underneath this is a summary of sorts. Magenta was gone for a month, leaving about... I dunno. Three or four weeks before the Family of Blood arrive? Yeah, that sounds good. Also, if there are any shippers reading this simply because of the eventual 10/Rose I advertised, a) there's a little of that in here and b) you're very persistant. Not a great deal of the 10/Rose, but Rose is at least mentioned several times. As far as I'm aware, Baia Mare is, in fact, in Transylvania (in Romania) and since I didn't set a time for the memory, but they're on a steam train, so in my mind they're in the Romantic/Victorian time. Italics are memories... ish. So most of this chapter is just memories and memories within memories, but I feel like being nostalgic.

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, or anything else I've made reference to in this chapter (or previous ones... and the ones to come)

=========----============

_I have to go_

I don't know, she looked like she was in pain.

_Please, no! Not again._

We found her.

It looks bad. Like violation.

_=========---=========_

Magenta slowly ate the soup left for her in the infirmatory. She tried to ignore the pain. No doubt her slow movements had reopened some of her wounds. Bruises and cuts decorated everywhere but her face. Blood had stained parts of her hair a coppery red. On her back were scars, wounds reopened by whippings when she didn't automatically obey _that man_. But that was nothing compared to the psychological damage she had sustained. She hadn't spoken since they found her. She hadn't cried. They found her in that cabin, each limb chained to a bed post, dressed in nothing but bruises and bedsheets, and barely alive. That had been a week ago. They never caught up with the Valeyard. She knew everyone else knew what had happened. The stares and whispers of the students passing the infirmatory. Well, the whispers of the students old enough to fully comprehend what happened to her. Her visitors – Martha, Bill, and the rest of her colleagues looked at her with pity. This was the first time she had been alone. It worried her to be here. She never let anyone touch her in an attempt to not be discovered. Somehow, the two hearts probably wouldn't go down well. The doctor who'd come to examine her wasn't allowed to do anything that required physical contact. She was fairly sure she'd have to rebreak some bones and reset them properly. She watched silently as the sun went down.

=-===-=-===-=-===-=-===-

There was a knock at the window, and she saw the Doctor (her father-ish) there. He slid it open and climbed in. He knew. He was the one who found her. The one who laid the hints for the search party to find her. Truth be told, they hadn't thought they would find her alive. She followed his path expressionlessly with her eyes. He sat on the edge of her bed. The last time they'd spoken, the Doctor had apologised for the way he treated her and asked if there was anything he could do to fix it. She'd told him it wasn't his fault she was bitter. He'd looked down like he knew something she didn't. She looked down at her hand, resting in her lap. When she looked up again, there were tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He said. "James is waiting down there. He wants to see you." Magenta shook her head. The Doctor could hear the song in her mind playing louder and faster as she began to panick. "Okay! I'll tell him you're asleep or something." That seemed to placate her. "I'll be back in a moment, okay?" She nodded. The Doctor slid out of the window and down the conveniently-placed trellis.

=-==---=--=--==--==--=--=-=--=--=--=--==--==--=--=

"She's sleeping. I think it would be best if you don't see her."

James looked despondent. "Are you sure? I would just take a minute."

The Doctor shook his head.

"It's not like she'd know that difference." He protested, taking a step toward the trellis. The Doctor shot a hand out to stop him.

"She isn't asleep. She doesn't want to see you." The Doctor told James. Over the years, he had observed the way James looked up to his older sister. At first a maternal figure, Magenta had shifted in his view point when he was about 12 to something... else. The Doctor could hear Freud giggling like a school girl in the back of his mind. "I'm going back up, but you should go back to the TARDIS." James looked petulant for a moment but obeyed.

-=--=--=--=--==--==--=--=-=--=--=--=--==--==--=--=

The Doctor was uncomfortable with the way his son treated his sister. He'd been aware of James' change in behaviour towards Magenta since they visited Gnoopixlupoon – 'The Land of Eternal Midnight' – very briefly for a refueling (he was getting sick of Cardiff). Despite it's admirable views, the people weren't the most child-friendly people in the universe, so he had instructed his children to stay inside and simply admire the views from inside the TARDIS. Magenta, of course, had decided to completely disregard his instructions and wander off. When she decided to come back, miraculously unharmed, James had seen her stand outside the open door, just admiring the view for another moment, and James' jaw had dropped open. When she came inside and her hair returned to its original black, he kept staring and grabbed her left hand, apparently checking it for something.

=-==-==-==-==--==--==-==-=-==-==-==-==--==--==-==-

When the Doctor came to the end of his memory, he found himself at the top of the trellis, ready to slip into the room. Magenta was still sitting in her bed, looking down at her lap. He could see a criss-cross of blood on her nightgown. He remembered the first time this happened – it hadn't been pretty. She had spiralled down. At first she maintained absolute silence, like she was now, then moved onto slightly verbal communication by way of overuse of the word 'meh' and sighing. Soon that progressed to refusing anything that wasn't Gallifreyan, which he had some theories about but never fully understood. Then that progressed into crying jags, lots of screaming, a touchy personality and a slightly gothic, very morbid nature. It wasn't pretty, but at least she was still all there.

-=--=--=--=--==--==--=--=

It was around Christmas that he thought she had finally become stable. He remembered what happened that day better than most things he'd done and seen. The tragedy was that he only realised what she wanted, the only thing she'd ever wanted, when it was far too late to give it too her. He realised she wanted his approval, to be part of his family. He remembered the night she disappeared, she lost it. She got angrier than he'd ever seen her, although she'd never really _been _the angry type. It was only after everything that he'd realised everything she did for him – all the languages, all those instruments she learned, she even learned to work the TARDIS, which was no easy task- and all she wanted was the same treatment as her siblings. If he had smiled once or praised her – just once in her life – she would have cherished that memory forever. Anything and everything he encouraged her siblings to do, she would work and learn it to the point of excellence. And he never acknowledged it. But when he did, it was too late, she was gone. That image of her, burning like the sun, power she'd always possessed but never been aware of, was imprinted in his brain. But then she'd gone that one step further and he'd realised just how twisted and bitter she had become. She showed him Rose. Rose ending the Time War. She could have done anything in the world, and Magenta chose to torture him. There were a few things he told her that he never told Allie and James. He never taught them Gallifreyan, for instance, or let them near the console of the TARDIS. He had also never told them how deeply he relied on their mother. Rose had pulled him out of his post-Time War depression. Magenta knew this. Rose was the one thing she held above the Doctor. It was a very low blow, but so was what the Doctor had dealt the night the Valeyard took her.

_Magenta and himself had been travelling back to the TARDIS via old steam train at night. There had been an attempted invasion of the Earth they needed to stop before it started, and the Doctor had deemed it unsafe for the twins. So he had left them in the TARDIS in a small village in Transylvania. His and Magenta's quest had taken them from city to city, town to town for almost a week before they stopped the ironically vampiric aliens from making Earth their hunting grounds. It had been an advantage that Magenta both spoke what would become Romanian and could choose to sound Transylvanian when speaking English – a strange side effect of learning several other European languages at the same time as English. The TARDIS had a geographical limit on how far away the translator worked from and he hadn't been certain how far away their journey would take them. But it was cold, wet and miserable and Magenta was huddled in her seat opposite him, clutching her long black coat around her, staring out the window. He offered her his coat and she looked at him disbelievingly._

"_You want to do something nice for me?" She asked as if it was the most ludicrous thing he could have done._

"_Is there something odd about that?" He asked, confused and offended by her tone._

"_Yes." She answered, succinct as always. He frowned at her. "When was the last time you did something nice for me? Ever? And my 10th Birthday party doesn't count because I just kept bugging you until you gave in. And it was five years ago. Look, don't- don't argue." She could see his indignant response to her words. "And answer the question." The Doctor thought for a moment._

"_I got you that new piano."  
"No, you got that for Allie, but she got frustrated and quit." She corrected._

"_What about that set of charcoal pencils?"_

_Magenta shook her head. "No, those were for Allie, too, but she hated the black residue on her hands."_

"_Your screwdriver. I got you your screwdriver."_

"_Technically you made it 'cos you didn't want to buy me one and you only bothered making me one because you like it when I work on the TARDIS with you, but you don't like me using yours." He didn't have anything more to say to her. "Yeah, I thought so." They maintained an uneasy silence._

_-=-_

_The rain was still pouring down when Concierge-type man knocked on the door of their compartment and entered._

"_I do apologise, but the tracks have been flooded further ahead and the driver has deemed it unsafe to proceed with the journey. We will arrive in Baia Mare in around 15 minutes." He announced._

"_Very good." The Doctor said by way of dismissal. The concierge-type-dude left, and Magenta resumed staring out of the window._

"_It's nice weather." She commented without a drop of sarcasm._

"_I think we'll have to find somewhere to stay the night and see what's happening in the morning." The Doctor informed her._

"_Oh, no, really?" And the sarcasm was back. "I thought we'd just stay on the train and freeze all night." He gave her a look as if to say 'Why must you be so unpleasant?'. She narrowed her eyes, showing her distain, although whether it was for the situation or for him, he didn't know. Magenta sighed and went back to staring out the window and shivering. The Doctor observed her quietly, wondering what was going through her head. Her breathing slowed and became even. He smiled at her. She was falling asleep. The train began slowed as it approached the station and Magenta seemed to jerk awake as if she'd set an internal alarm._

_When the train came to a complete stop, Magenta and the Doctor silently stepped off it, into the rain. There were very few people getting off the train, as Baia Mare was where most people got on. That, however, didn't prevent the throngs of people on the platform. The Doctor and Magenta silently followed each other off the platform, out of the station and into the street._

_The second they stepped into the street, they were soaked._

"_Over there?" Magenta asked, gesturing to a rather conveniently placed tavern across the street. He nodded, and lead her through the bustling street to the slightly strangely named 'Whiteboard Inn'._

"_Excuse me, I don't suppose you have any rooms available?" The Doctor asked in a slightly rude tone of voice. The woman behind the desk checked the bookings book._

"_Yes, I do believe there's one left." She paused, eyeing them up._

"_I suppose that will do, father." Magenta said, slipping into her natural accent. The woman behind the desk seemed to grow embarrassed for no particular reason. The Doctor nodded._

"_Very well, we'll have it." As the flustered woman seemed to fuss around finding their key, Magenta looked up at the Doctor through her eyelashes and smiled. The Doctor gave her a disapproving look. "It's not very nice to do that to people." He said quietly, referring to her effect on people. She wrinkled her nose at him._

"_Take a pill. I know you need to anyway."_

"_What?" The Doctor asked. He didn't get it. She grinned broadly at him. He felt happy that she was happy. For reasons he couldn't discern, she seemed to hate the universes and everyone in them, with the possible exception of James, which wasn't necessarily a good thing, no matter how oblivious she seemed to how he treated her. It was a strange sight to see her in a good mood, as along with hating the world, she seemed miserable and sarcastic all the time. But seeing her smile was like having Rose flashed in front of him again. The woman behind the desk cleared her throat. She handed Magenta the key and gave them instructions as to how to get to their room._

"_Thank you." Magenta said, taking the key and dragging the Doctor behind her._

_=-=-=-=_

"_Charming. Absolutely charming." Magenta commented wryly._

"_It's not that bad!" The Doctor said cheerfully. "Look! It's got a window and everything!"_

"_Oh, a window. How delightful." Magenta replied with faux-sincerity. Their room had two single beds, a wooden everything, one candle (which was burning brightly against the dark) and the all-important window, out of which rain could be seen. Lots and lots of rain. Magenta moved silently to the bed on the right, took off her shoes and slipped under the covers. She snuggled childishly into them with closed eyes and a slight smile._

"_Are you still cold?" The Doctor asked when she shivered._

"_Yes." He took off his coat and lay it over her blanket-ed form. She smiled at him. "Won't you be cold?"_

"_Nah. I'm made of tough stuff, me." He replied. She gave him a look of amusement._

"_Thank you." She said sincerely. He smiled at her. He wondered how she could change so dramatically; rejecting any attempt he made to reach out to her, then accepting it gratefully just under an hour later. "What time is it?" She asked, slightly randomly._

"_Around 9 p.m. Give or take."_

"_Okay." She said. She shut her eyes and relaxed, although she was still facing him. Her breathing became even and eventually she fell asleep. The Doctor was unsure of what to do. He didn't want to leave her alone (bad things seemed to happen), nor did he want to simply sit there all night. _

_=-=-=-=_

_Magenta sighed, drawing his attention to her. He smiled. He remembered the day he took her from the Loom-like machine she was grown in. She was absolutely tiny for a baby of her age, but she was healthy. He remembered the look on Rose's face when she took their daughter from him._

"_She's so small!" Rose whispered._

"_She's perfect." The Doctor whispered back. Unlike human babies, Magenta (who hadn't been named yet) was "born" perfectly calmly, not crying or pink but with both hearts beating, breathing by herself and strangly pale. Even as a newborn, she had black downy hair and pale skin. When she opened her eyes for the first time a few days later, he was startled by their colour, but he recognised what it was. She developed quickly, having most of the physical and mental functions of a human three-year-old by the end of her first year, despite still looking like a one-year-old. When she actually got to three – Rose was half-way through her pregnancy with the twins by then – she had a near-perfect memory, excellent speech (with a mere five languages able to be spoken with varying levels of coherency), and strangly graceful co-ordination. As an infant, she never woke her parents with screaming or crying, instead sending out a weird telepathic signal to the Doctor who didn't sleep much anyway. She was a very easy child to deal with, not being the sort of throw tantrums or cry unneccessarily. It had taken Rose and the Doctor almost a month to decide on her name. _

_To Rose, she was known as Magdalena __Vladimirovna– a phonetic, shortened, vague sort of equivalent to the Gallifreyan name the Doctor had awarded her. Known only to him and his daughter in her early childhood, it would probably always remain known only to them. The nickname 'Magenta' was developed when she learned English. Her first word sounded to Rose like 'Yasoshlasuma', but the Doctor recognised the specific intonation and pronunciation as the Gallifreyan word for 'father'._

"_What did she say?" Rose asked him, puzzled._

"_She said 'father'. The proper full-length unabridged word for 'father'." The Doctor replied, aghast. From then on, her increasing vocabulary left Rose permanently confused. Magenta seemed to understand what was said to her in English, but appeared to be unable to speak it. She hated English. She learned French after reading 'Madeline'. She learned German after seeing the movie 'Hände weg von Mississippi'. She learned Latin after finding a book of Latin quotes and phrases in the library. It upset Rose to no end until that day two-year-old Magenta sighed and said 'If it annoys you that much...' while they were having breakfast. That was a little less that a year before Rose died. That night, after Rose and the Doctor had put her to bed, they were chatting in front of the telly._

"_She sounds like Magenta." Rose commented._

"_What?"  
"Magenta. From the Rocky Horror Picture Show. You know – she and her brother Riff-Raff were lovers and they killed Frank and took the castle back to Transexual."_

"_Oh, right. _That_ Magenta. Yeah, she does a bit." The Doctor observed. After that, the name 'Magenta' just became her nickname. _

_She learned to speak English so she actually sounded English, but not without a great deal of hard work. They were happy as a family. When Rose got pregnant, they were still happy as a family. But when the day came that Rose was rushed to a hospital on Klingohetyargynarah that specialised in the care and delivery of 'cross-bred' children, everything fell apart. It was all happening too quickly. Magenta was shoved aside, left in the waiting room with the families of other women... and men... and undecided life forms that were having children. The Doctor stayed with Rose and James and __Allison were delivered, just little pink wriggly things crying their lungs out. Rose was exhausted but fine. Hours later, when the drama was over, they were handed their biological children, they __marvelled over them._

"_They're miraculous. How could we be the ones to make them?"_

"_Well, when a man and a woman are love each other or are very, very drunk..." The Doctor joked._

"_Shut up. You know what I mean. What should we call them?"_

"_He looks like a James to me." The Doctor noted. 'James' was at the top of their list for a boy._

"_Yeah, he does." Rose replied. "James." She tested the name out on her tongue. "Yeah, he's definitely James."_

"_What about her?" He asked, referring to their youngest child._

"_What was first on our short-list?" She asked.  
"Temperance. Followed by Elizabeth, Jane, Mary, Felicity and Charlotte."_

"_They don't fit her, though. It needs to be something that's...something that fits the kinda girl who dots her 'i's with a heart, you know?"_

"_What about... Allison. Allie for short." The Doctor suggested. While he agreed with Rose, he still wanted it to be relatively sophisticated._

"_Allie... yeah. Allie." Just then, James started wailing, which set Allie off. The Doctor, who was holding James, tried frantically to calm him down while Rose, who was holding Allie, didn't know what to do. Then James stopped abruptly which made Allie calm down._

"_What was that?" Rose asked. The Doctor shrugged. It made him realise that perhaps he wasn't ready for these children in particular. His previous experiences with children were generally that they were well-behaved and relatively calm, especially Magenta. Allie and James were very human infants. Then James started wailing again, but louder, which set Allie off again. A few minutes passed, then they stopped._

"_What's going on?" Rose asked._

"_I don't-" He was cut off by his son's screaming. He metaphorically pricked his ears up. "Oh, my god. Here, take James." He handed James to Rose and took off running. He recognised that telepathic signal his newborn son was picking up on. He reached the waiting room he had left his eldest child in. She was sitting in one of the hard plastic seats the hospital provided, holding herself ridgid, yet slightly dejectedly. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, but there was a young humanoid girl sitting next to her, talking to her._

"_And then mommy kissed daddy, and the angel told the stork and then the stork flew down from heaven and left a diamond under a leaf in the cabbage patch and the diamond turned into a baby."_ "_My parents are having a baby, too." Magenta said, staring at the ground looking petrified. "They had sex." It was then the Doctor chose to interrupt._ "_There you are." He said cheerfully, picking Magenta up. She groaned slightly._ "_Daddy. It hurts and you weren't coming and," Her voice was losing its English accent and took a strange tone. It took the Doctor a moment to realised that she was crying._ "_Hey," He said, setting her down. "What hurts?"_ "_Everything. Nothing. Something." She answered, breathing heavily. "You left me alone for so long. Seven hours, daddy. Seven hours. And I was waiting and waiting and you still didn't come for me and then everything started hurting and I couldn't tell anyone and I couldn't move."He picked her up again and carried her to Rose's room._ "_Magenta." Rose smiled, a baby in each arm. Magenta groaned and tears slipped from her eyes. "What's wrong?" Magenta groaned again, coughed, and passed out._ _It didn't take the (medical) doctors long to figure out what was happening. They saw some strange things everyday, so much so that the weird was normal. Strangely enough, Magenta was feeling her mother's pain. It had happened before – the odd stubbed toe or bitten tongue. Rose was hemorraging and no one realised. They rushed Rose to surgeory and managed to get her stable. Afterwards, they sent her back to her room and her family all surrounded her as she slept. The Doctor was sitting with Allie in one arm, Magenta in his lap and Magenta carefully holding James in her small embrace. The Doctor noticed the muscles around Rose's mouth would twitch randomly.  
"Hey, uh, Doctor?" The Doctor called out. Doctor Morter was waiting outside the room, in case something happened.  
"Is something wrong, Mr Smith?" Doctor Morter asked.  
"Is the thing with her mouth meant to be happening?" The Doctor asked. Doctor Morter frowned and opened his mouth to speak when Rose started seizing. Doctor Morter called in some nurses and asked for the appropriate medication and was just about to inject Rose when she stopped seizing.  
"She's not breathing!" Doctor Morter cried and did some more doctorish stuff. Rose was going cyanotic. No one had taken the time to kick the Doctor and his three children out of the room. Then Rose started breathing again. Doctor Morter was checking her vital signs, pupil dilation etc. when his face relaxed.  
"Post-partum eclampsia." He announced. "We just need to remove the placentas." Rose, in her already fragile state, faded away at the exact moment the doctors predicted she would awaken._ _The image of newborn-Magenta didn't quite coincide with the 15-year-old in front of him. His memories of her before the day Rose died didn't line up with the image of the teenage girl lying across the room from him. It was after the loss of her mother that he recognised the expression in her eyes. It had to be traumatic for one as young as Magenta with a functioning long-term memory to witness a parent's violent death. Over the years, for reasons unknown to him, that expression deepened until he wondered how much of that little girl whose first word was 'father' was left._ _Lost in his musings, he was unaware that the object of his musings was awake and watching him from her bed.  
"I never pegged you for the sentimental type." Magenta commented, almost pleasantly.  
"What happened?" The Doctor asked abruptly.  
"Excuse me?"_ "_What made you change. You were obviously just eavesdropping on my thoughts. Why did you change from that little girl to... you?"_ _Magenta chuckled wryly._ "_Life."_ _The Doctor snorted, after all these years of her attitude towards him, he'd had enough. "You're too young to be that jaded."_ _Magenta gave him a strange, cat-like smile. "No, see when I was little, I had this one shining example to live by. No matter how many times I saw something bad in the universe, I could look to him and see everything that was good." Magenta paused and looked down. She sighed, and when she looked up, he could see tears in her eyes. "And then his partner died and he had two children he wasn't prepared for. So he cast me aside and for years I just kept making excuses for him. Like he was busy, so it was my fault for disturbing him and if I could just show him what I could do, he'd like me again. _ "_But then, on my seventh birthday, he took me and his family to Gallackfeneltundra for a picnic. Not because it was my birthday, but because he thought it would be nice for his children. I was so angry... he didn't even notice." She paused again, looking the Doctor straight in the eye. He knew. __He must have realised by now. "Long story short, I got taken by human traffickers who dealt in sex slaves, I was waiting for hours before he came for me. There were two things about that day that really stuck in my head. One was that I was screaming my head off when they took me, but he just said he'd be there in a minute as he was eating cake. The other was that I heard him talking to his daughter later. He was apologising to her for taking her to such an unsafe place, when he was with her the whole time and she was never in any danger. I was furious, but I didn't say anything and __still__ I made excuses for him. I still make excuses for him today. I know I shouldn't, but I still do and I know why." She looked down again and blinked, letting her tears fall down. "I would do anything he asked of me. I would give him everything I have to give. I would give my life for his because, to me, he'll always be the man who used to love me, who left me waiting for seven hours when I was three and in unbearable pain, who taught me my first word, who __used__ to be my father. And I still love him, because he'll always by my dad, even if he disowns me and I never see him again; no matter how much he dislikes me and wishes he could dump me off on a distant planet. But I hate him. For all the times he's let me down for his children that are so __human__ and all the times he's made me cry. So bravo, Doctor, for everything you've done for me. Give yourself a fucking prize." She stood up and left, slamming the door shut behind her. _ _=-=-=-=_ _It took him awhile to realise he should probably go after. She could be anywhere, but she had no where to go. He ran out of the Whiteboard Inn and spotted her, with some difficulty, walking around the corner. He sprinted after her, calling her name. She didn't respond. When he caught up with her and grabbed her hand, she simply pulled it out of his grasp and walked more quickly._ "_Magenta." He said, getting her attention._ _She said nothing._ "_I'm sorry."_ _She didn't reply, just shooting him a look that could kill. He grabbed her arm._ "_Stop it! Just stop it! 'Oh, I didn't get enough attention as a child, pity me!'"_ "_Fuck you! What do you know of __my__ suffering? You committed genocide and that is your burden to carry. I do not presume to know what that feels like. I live on a ship with a girl who I have no doubt would step over my corpse for free gum, a twelve year old boy who treats me like I'm his best friend and a man who wouldn't care if I threw myself in front of the next... train," She gestured at the train station across the road, "That comes along. That is what you know, but you have no idea how it feels."_ "_Then show me." He challenged her. She considered him for a moment before relaxing, bringing down the barrier she'd built. Magenta pulled up her memory. She was fourteen, and she had learnt Beethoven's fourteenth sonata, all twenty-five pages of it, by heart(s). Six minutes later, she played the last notes and looked up to see the Doctor leaning against the doorway._ "_You're playing it too fast." He commented and moved on. Magenta's face was contorted with rage, her fists curling into balls, fingernails digging in and drawing blood. Then the scene changed to the first night after Rose's death. Magenta, who didn't sleep more than once a week, lay sobbing in her bed. She hesitated, then called for her father. He didn't come. She called again, and again he didn't appear. She was resigned. Then the scene changed to her fifteenth birthday, in the kitchen. She was eating toast when the Doctor came in._ "_There's something special about today." He said, absentmindedly._ "_You were gonna visit Jack." She reminded him, taking a sip of her tea._ "_Oh, yeah- OH! It's your birthday today."_ "_Mmm." She answered. Allie ran in and hugged the Doctor. The Doctor who was being shown the memory felt a surge of jealousy._ "_Hi, daddy." Allie said, sounding very chav-like and failing to even look in Magenta's direction. "What are we doing today?"_ "_We're visiting Jack." Allie beamed. She loved visiting Jack. Perhaps a little too much for an __eleven-almost-twelve-year-old._ "_Why?" Allie asked._ _The Doctor looked at Magenta for a second before answering. "Just for you, princess." He said, looking Magenta straight in the eye. The Doctor watching the memory felt nostaliga, hope and affection, which quickly turned to fury and bitterness before everything disappated back to the absolute nothing. A thousand memories played out in front of him at the same time but he felt nothing but... cold. The only way he could describe it was cold. Devoid of anything remotely close to happiness or satisfaction. Just cold and resentment and fury burning behind it. He never wanted to feel like that again._ "_Is that what you feel? All the time?"_ "_Yes."_ "_Can I have her?" An unfamiliar voice cut in. Magenta pulled her hands away from the Doctor's temples, breaking their connection. The Doctor's face froze._ "_Not you." He whispered._ "_Yes, me. Can I have her?"_ "_I suppose... yes?"_ "_What-" Magenta began to ask, but she disappeared with 'the Valeyard'. It took the Doctor a week his-time to find them. He had no idea how long it had been for her._ Magenta sighed softly. "I don't know either." Her voice was soft and slightly rasped. "You're talking?" The Doctor asked, shaken out of his reverie.She shrugged. "It was longer this time. A month. But at least he didn't have electricity." "Electricity?" The Doctor asked. "Oh! Oh." He realised what she meant. "He electrocuted you?" It sounded more like a statement than a question. "I don't want to talk about it. Ever." "Understandable." "Could you..." She paused, trying to figure out how to phrase her question. "Can you make me forget..." --=-- The Doctor left around 4 am, his work done. He paused to look back at her sadly. He warned her of the side effects – migraines, spontaneous onsets of unconciousness, coma, forgetting everything forever, and a second of lost concentration meant she'd remember everything. But still she insisted. The Doctor sighed. One of his children was lost – eaten by a reaper. The only chance of recovering her was Magenta going back to her own time and finding out what went wrong. If anyone else interfered, it would be worse than it was already. His other 'daughter' was on the brink of falling into a coma or worse (at her will). And his son... oh, he didn't know where to begin with James. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-= When Nurse Redfern came to check on Magenta in the morning, she was surprised to see her wounds were bandaged. "Can I have some tea?" She asked in a strangely hopeful and childlike tone. She seemed healthy and almost... normal. "You know, I think I'm good." Magenta announced in the afternoon, almost cheerfully. She was allowed back to her quarters that evening. _=-=-=-=-=-=_

Author's Notes again:

_I have to go – what Magenta said to Mr Smith. He was the last one to see her before the Valeyard caught up with her._

I don't know, she looked like she was in pain – Mr Smith talking to James and Martha when they were looking for her. The search eventually expanded to many of the villagers, staff and older boys with the aid of the few policemen in the village.

_Please, no! Not again – Magenta pleading with the Valeyard not to take her._

We found her – Martha and Enid found Magenta in an old, dilapidated cabin deep in the east of the woods.

It looks bad. Like... violation - The village doctor talking to James and Bill about his examination of Magenta. Back before women's rights, sexual assault was generally referred to as 'violation' because violence towards women wasn't recognised as wrong, or even violence for that matter.

Oh yeah, and the Valeyard isn't James... it'll be explained properly later. If I remember, that is.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: Okay, guys. I'm not gonna lie to you. I own it. I own it all. I also live in a padded cell with an elephant called Humphrey. He's blue and thinks he's a bear.

=-=-=-=-===---===-=-=--====---=-=

"How can she be like that?" Nurse Redfern whispered to herself. She was watching Magenta talking with Seb. It amazed her that Magenta's behaviour could change so quickly... she looked so normal. Apart from a few bruises she looked fine. Magenta had been back at work for a week. She acted like nothing was wrong. Like nothing had happened.

"What was that, Matron?" Enid, who was dusting near Nurse Redfern enquired.

"I was just wondering how Miss Moncrieff can be so flippant towards what happened." She reiterated. "Don't tell her I said that." She added hastily. Magenta had farewelled Seb and was walking toward the Matron. "Good day, Miss Moncrieff." The Matron greeted.

"Compartmentalisation." Magenta said.

"Pardon?"

"Compartmentalisation; it means I can know what happened but I don't have to remember it or how it felt. That and the fact I was unconcious a fair bit of the time. It was an improvement on last time, I'll tell you, but not the most healthy thing to do. Goodbye." She said quickly and left the Matron (and Enid) confused.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Ah! Miss Moncrieff, just the person I was looking for." Mr Slasher, the school's second history teacher, called out to her.

"Mr Slasher." She acknowledged.

"I was just wondering if you could take my history classes this afternoon. I have some... business to attend to."

"Certainly." Magenta answered. She didn't really have a job until after lessons ended.  
"The lesson plans are on my desk in my classroom."

"Okay."

"Thank you."

"No problem." She answered dismissively and they went their separate ways.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The afternoon rolled around and Magenta prepared her lessons. The 'lesson plan' Mr Slasher had left her were simply basic instructions to read particular pages from a book to the boys. As the boys filed in, they looked confused but didn't say anything.

"Good afternoon, boys." She addressed them. "You may notice a strange lack of Mr Slasher. He's off 'attending to business'. Sounds slightly dodgy to me, maybe he's on opium. I dunno. Anyway, today's lesson is on the French Revolution. Lovely revolution, that one. What with the Reign of Terror and internal bloodshed with the killing and beheading of the Ancien Regime." She said, sounding slightly like Professor Frink. "So, apparently you just sit there and take notes as I read from this book. Um, yeah, so... yeah." The boys looked amused. Among the faces she recognised Baines and Latimer. Latimer, as always, was staring intently at her. Baines, Hutchinson and some others in their class were eyeing her up.

"Historians debate when exactly the French Revolution began and ended. It is generally accepted the revolution itself began in 1789, when the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen was written. This- my god, this is dull. Is every lesson like this?" The boys stared at her. "What? No, seriously, answer the question. Hutchinson?"

"Uh, yes ma'am."

"You poor children. You know what? Just give me a second." She said, and flipped through the pages, reading them quickly. "Okay, write this down..."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

A few moments later, with almost an hour to go in the lesson, the boys had written down a summary of what took five pages in the text book to explain. Magenta sighed, drawing the attention of the class.

"Well, this is sufficiently awkward." Magenta said and the boys continued to stare at her. "Random question; how old are you guys?" No one answered. She rolled her eyes. "Fine, line up across the front of the room in order of youngest to my left and oldest to my right." The boys scurried around. "Latimer," He was the youngest in the class. "Age?"  
"I'm sixteen, ma'am."

"Next boy."

"Sixteen."

It continued on like that until she got to the end of the line.

"Sorry, what's your name?" She asked the eldest boy.

"Richard Cumming, miss, but people call me Dick. I'm almost nineteen."

"Dick Cumming?" She asked, disbelieving. "Show me your notebook." Low and behold, the name 'Richard Cumming' was written neatly inside the front cover.

"Your parents must hate you."

"Excuse me, Miss Moncrieff," One of the boys from the middle started timidly, "But how old are you?" Magenta frowned slightly.

"One – that is an extremely impertinent question; Two – Society is under the impression I'm eighteen; Three – that's not my real age, and; Four – if anyone guesses right, I'll tell you where Cook keeps her alcohol stash." Several of the boys grinned.

"Twenty-one?" Someone guessed. The expression on Magenta's face was enough to tell them she was definitely younger.

"Fourteen?" Someone else asked, resulting in a great deal of laughter.

"Nineteen?"

"Fifteen?"

"Eighteen?"

"Sixteen?"

"Close enough." Magenta said. "Lucky you, Baines." She gestured for his to come closer. She muttered instructions to him as the other boys looked disappointed. Their few minutes of entertainment faded away and they lapsed into silence again.

"So," She said loudly, clapping her hands together. "Who's for poker?"

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Mr Staker was interrupted by loud laughter from the next classroom again. It was both strange and annoying.

"Excuse me." He said to his class and left. He marched down the hallway and tried to open the door to Mr Slasher's usual classroom. Operative word there being tried. He heard movement within and the scraping of furniture being moved. He was surprised when Magenta opened the door, looking innocent.  
"Excuse me, Miss Moncrieff." He said and stepped past her into the room where the boys were sitting at their desks, pens poised above paper, ready to write. They all smiled at him innocently and collectively said,

"Good afternoon, sir."

He narrowed his eyes at them and left abruptly, not acknowledging Magenta as he swept past her. He returned to his classroom and returned to the lesson. Before long, loud laughter was audible in the next classroom. Mr Staker decided it was pointless to investigate it further, but made a note to take it up with some higher authority later.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Magenta sighed. She had farewelled her last class and prepared to greet her next class. They were younger than the last class, she estimated the oldest was only around 13. The instructions were pretty much the same as the last class'. 'Read pages 45-55 for the students to take notes'. What fun.

"Okay, boys. Mr Slasher is occupied with business, so I'm taking your class for today. I've decided that your work is boring, so just give me a few minutes to work out what you should write..."

The boys were writing and Magenta was bored.

"Good afternoon, Matron." Magenta could hear Mr Smith's voice drift in from the corridor.  
"Keep writing." Magenta instructed the students and went to listen at the door.

"Mr Smith. How are you?" Magenta sighed. More pointless pleasantries ensued. Oh, hang on, this was getting interesting.

"... though we've known each other all of two months, you could say 'Joan'." Magenta perked up. This was getting very interesting. "And it's John, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes it is."

"Have you seen this, John? The annual dance at the village hall in a few weeks. It's nothing formal, but rather fun by all accounts. Do you think you'll go?" She sounded hopeful.

"I hadn't thought about it."

"It's been ages since I've been to a dance, only no-one's asked me." There was a short, slightly awkward and tense silence. Mr Smith started stammering, trying to salvage the conversation.

"The stairs."

"What about the stairs?"

"They're right behind you."

A minute later, Magenta heard a vehement 'I'm fine.' from Mr Smith, followed by a groan and loud steps up the stairs.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"That was great, boys." Magenta said, looking over the vastly improved band. "You know, I'm tired, so you can all go do whatever the hell it is you do when you're not here." She waited until the last students (a set of fraternal but almost identical 14 year old boys) left before gathering her stuff. A random knock on the door drew her attention.

"Oh, no. Not you."

"You have to talk to me some time."

"No, I don't."

"Sister."

"James. You are not my brother. I disown you. Now piss off."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Yelling from the music classroom had attracted the attention Mr Smith who had simply been patrolling, ensuring no one was breaking curfew. The door was open and he could see Miss Moncrieff and her brother circling around each other, screaming at each other. The general gist seemed to be Magenta telling him to go away and James replying that she couldn't deny something. He took a step toward her and she took one back. They continued their dance until she was pressed against the wall, looking murderous as he covered her mouth with a hand.

"I love you." He told her. That in itself was not odd, but the expression he said it with made alarm bells go off in Mr Smith's head. James removed his hand from Magenta's mouth and kissed her. When he pulled away, Magenta's face was expressionless. Mr Smith felt sick. Magenta's hand moved up to James' cheek gently.

"Good for you." She said. James took it as permission to continue. He kissed her again, moving his arms around her in what one would assume to be a romantic position. She remained passive for a moment before kneeing him in the balls. He yelped in pain and bent in half, clutching at the assaulted area. While he was unable to fight back, she hit his nose with the heel of her palm. Mr Smith could hear a satisfying crunch from where he was standing, unable to move in the doorway.

"I love those breaking noises." She said simply before drifting past her brother, raising an eyebrow at the gawking Mr Smith and disappearing down the corridor. Mr Smith was left gawking at James, understandably completely unsympathetic. Mr Smith left James in pain, confident that he could find his own way out. He found Magenta again, slumped on the stairs.

"Miss Moncrieff?"

"Two of them. There was two of them." She said, hiding her face. The moonlight streaming through the windows made the stairs look silver. Magenta's hair was silvery-blonde while her skin seemed to shine in the moonlight. She looked up at him and blinked, confused. She closed her eyes and fell forward.

"Help!" He yelled, racing to her side. He gasped as he touched her hand. She was freezing. He felt for a pulse on where he guessed her carotid artery was. Thankfully, he got one... or two...

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Magenta woke in the morning in her. She was still wearing her clothes from yesterday and she seemed to be alone. Frowning, she sat up and looked around.

"Oh!" She gasped, spying Mr Smith out in her study/loungeroom area. "What are you doing here?"

"You fainted."

"That doesn't answer my question, Mr Smith."

"You fainted and I took your pulse to see if you were alive."

"Again, that doesn't- oh. I see. The thing about that... I have this... thing. With my heart. Ish."

"And this thing with your heart is?  
"Um... a, uh... Patent ductus arteriosus." She stuttered, sounding more like she was asking a question.

"A what?"

"Patent ductus arteriosus. PDA is an abnormal connection between the aorta and the pulmonary artery, which normally should be closed in infancy. Since aortic pressure is higher than pulmonary pressure, a continuous murmur occurs. This murmur is often described as a machinery murmur, or Gibson's murmur, named for George Alexander Gibson, who characterized it in 1898. Wikipedia, you know."

"Wiki- what?"

" Patent ductus arteriosus... it's all you need to know."

"Oh." There was an awkward silence. "Two of what?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Last night you said there were two of them. What did you mean by that?"

Mr Smith's question made Magenta contort her face slightly.

"It's all in the past. Time for you to go now. Mush mush."

Mr Smith left, confused. Magenta ran a hand through her hair and considered her options. Staying would lead to trouble, and the Val-, no, _they_ were still at large. She couldn't find sanctuary in her childhood home with her would-be father and disturbed brother. Running in the human world the literally old-fashioned way would serve its purpose. Yes, disappearing to Australia or Barbados or anywhere that wasn't England seemed like a good idea. She had sufficient funds and supplies to pay for a voyage to the Antipodes, but if she left that way society would have too many questions. Like 'why is this young, unmarried, unsupervised woman living by herself in our strictly patriarchal society?'. It would also leave her potentially stranded on Earth forever. A thought dawned on her. Yes, yes that seemed to satisfy the criterion. That is, of course, if Martha would accept it.

_Oh, what kind of technical-teenager am I? I don't need permission_. Magenta thought to herself. _Just do it_.

=-=-=-=-=

A/N: You know, I can't actually remember if I finished this chapter. It seems finished, though, so I think it is.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Notes: This chapter contains a reference to the novel "The Stone Rose" (a Doctor Who novel). Don't look at me like I'm a nerd. At least it's a recognised spin-off from the original show, not like the amateur fanfiction that you're reading... that I'm writing... (sighs) Yes, I am a geek... oh well. Geek pride! Geek pride! Geek pride! Geek pride! Anyway, **GENIEs are genetically engineered creatures that grant wishes. Any wish. With almost no reservations. Remember that. **Statistically, do you think that if you had 365 stories on your alerts, that you'd get at least one update every day?

Disclaimer: By now it should be pretty bloody obvious I don't own Doctor Who. Jebus.

_=-=-=-=-=-_

_Dear Martha,_

_Sorry for taking off. Ish. Well, I'm not really that sorry. It kind of bitchy of me to just take off with your only way of getting home. I'm coming back for you, I swear. I just had to get away from everything. Mr Smith was getting close. Don't worry about him and the Matron, by the way. I activated those memories of his, hidden way at the back of his brain. He'll remember his travels with Rose (the with Rose part is important) as dreams. It might not stop the whole human-romance-thing, but it should slow it down a little. Hopefully you can change him back before they get serious. On that note, the watch should be in the envelope with this letter. Hide it well. And I do really, really mean that. No, I've changed my mind. I'm taking that, too. Sorry. It's not you, it's just that if someone else finds it we're stuffed. And that's another thing. I'm not entirely sure of what the Family of Blood with do. Probably chase me. Probably. But that's okay. I can just float in the TARDIS in the Time Vortex. If they try it in their fake-time-machine for too long, they'll be ripped apart. And if they don't, just keep yourself hidden._

_I know you'll probably care more about the fact that I left you stranded than me. But just to be a bit more specific, I realised that **HE** (as in, the guy who took me) was not in fact he, but them. And I know exactly who makes up them. Maybe one day, once I've gotten over it, I'll try to stop it happening and mess around with timelines etc., but for now I'm content just running from them. I always thought it was strange. Sometimes I could hear them talking. I used to think he was talking to himself. And sometimes he called me my mother's name and hated me for not being her, while sometimes he clearly knew who I was and loved me a little too much. But it all makes sense now. I think Mr. Smith will know who one of them is. There was a little... ultercation between me and James two nights ago. 'Nough said. Actually, I hope he didn't want children. But anyway. By the time you would've received this, I would've handed in my resignation letter and left my work with Seb, so don't worry about that. Not that you would, 'coz right now you'll be freaking out. _

_Pay attention to the next sentence, Martha. If you need help, James can help. He's living in the east of the woods. It's weird to write that 'coz I hate him so much, but he's actually relatively intelligent and will have a way to contact me. Right now, I'm living with my sort-of-father, most likely in the TARDIS, most likely in the Time Vortex. That's another thing, don't let anyone else read this letter. Ever. Except me or the Doctor, or possibly James. _

_I have to go now._

_Oh yeah, and let everyone know I hate the name Magenta. I find it derogatory. My name is Magdalena. Well, not really, but I prefer it._

_Auf Wieder... schrieben._

* * *

Martha ran for all she had toward the TARDIS, hoping the letter was a joke. She ran through the familiar trees, threw open the doors of the shed to see... nothing. The bright blue wood was absent. Gone. She had actually done it. Magenta, or rather Magdalena, had up and gone. Left her alone with some bumbling idiot called John Smith. And she hadn't even left Martha the watch. The full impact of Magdalena's actions hit her. She was pretty much alone with no way of getting home. She was stuck. Although Magdalena had claimed she would come back... it wasn't like she could call when she was ready to be picked up. Her only way of contact was through James, who she didn't trust at all. Oh, god. Would she be forced to live out the rest of her days in this infernal time period? Always treated as an inferior? What about her family? Would they ever know she had been stranded in 1913? Would they always wonder what happened to her? Wait, she was jumping to conclusions. She should just wait until her and Mr. Smith's contracts ended before totally freaking out. And there was always James, if worst came to worst. As in absolute 'we're all gonna die' worst. Martha sighed, let out a long string of expletitives and made her way back to the school.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"So where are we going?" The Doctor asked.  
"I dunno. Just drifting, I guess." Magenta answered. "Oh! I know! The Hythanpiniantenipri Empire of Gargantuoiso, circa... 1876-ish?"

The Doctor moved to set the co-ordinates.

"Uh, I can do that. See, I actually want to get there, instead of, I don't know, landing in a swamp."

"That was one time!" The Doctor protested.

Magenta shrugged. "Well, at least I wasn't the one covered in slime, was I?"

The Doctor sniffed. "I loved that suit."

Magenta simply quirked her mouth in response.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Martha scrubbed at the floors with extra vigour. Got to get that anger out somehow, right?

"You alright, Martha?" Jenny enquired kindly.

"Yeah, fine. Just frustrated."

"What about?"

Martha sighed. "It doesn't matter."

Jenny just sort of shrugged and went back to scrubbing the floor. And so it continued that way for nearly a month. A month of serving, a month of racism, a month of watching John Smith and the Matron fall for each other, a month of John's dreams, a month of painful waiting for something – anything – to happen. A month before the annual village dance...

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Make your decision, Mr Smith." Mother-of-Mine demanded. The tension was unbearable. Martha watched Mr Smith's eyes flick between herself and the Matron. Someone laughed. Wait, what? Someone _laughed_. Martha's eyes flicked around in surprise. It wasn't the Family, or any of the villagers. It came from the... door? What? Someone stepped out of the darkness. A flash of black, white and red. Oh, hello.

"You know, the thing about guns is... I don't like them much. And as such, I like to use this little thing," She tapped her wrist, or more specifically the standard piece of time agent equipment on it, "to break them. No really, go ahead, shoot me." The Family glanced at each other, and Sister of Mine experimentally tried shooting her, this strange girl with the strange wristwatch. Nothing happened.

"Oh, oh dear. Now you have nothing to threaten the poor, simple humans with. Gosh, you're in a bit of a pickle, aren't you?" Magdalena said with sarcastic-false-innocence. Martha pulled away from Brother of Mine, taking the opportunity to punch him.

"Now I think this little charade has gone on long enough, don't you?" Magdalena asked rhetorically. "Really Matron, you can stop being a hostage now." Matron looked embarrassed. She quickly removed herself from Father of Mine's grasp.

"Who are you to stop us? What authority do you have?" Mother of Mine sneered, displeased with the way things were turning out.

"Who am I... who am I... that's a very good question. It's a beautiful question, to which I don't really have an answer anymore. See I was on... holidays with my dad when apparently something happened, then my regenerations got reversed and the last... 190 years of my life were erased, give or take a few. So I'm fifteen again, yay! I have no recollection of you or Martha or the Matron or John Smith, but my dad filled me in. So here I am, waiting for you to realise that no one here can help you, well, no one except me. Oh, hey, look! You just realised!" With that, she took off running. The Family hesitated for only a second before tearing after her.

"Was that Miss Moncrieff?" John asked, confused.

"_A_ Miss Moncrieff. Not sure she's the one you know." Martha answered. "And she just saved our lives."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"_If you could have anything in the universe, what would it be?" Jess asked. Jess was one of the gaggle of Gretelinian teenage girls Magdalena had met at the shops. They had promptly asked her to come shopping with them. That's the thing about Gretelinians. They were excessively social creatures, always wanting to meet new people._

"_Well... I guess what I want more than anything else isn't really a physical object, so the question doesn't really apply to me." Magdalena answered, looking at different shades of eye shadow._

"_Listen," Jess lowered her voice so Hatty, Jacinta, Atlanta and Edwina couldn't hear them. "There's a place around the corner, on Holman Street, that has GENIE's available." On Gretelinia, GENIEs had been outlawed, although they had been hidden and were now being exploited on the black market. Jess laughed nervously._

"_I don't know why I told you that. Chuck told me to only tell people I knew wouldn't report it. Oh, god. I don't even know you. Why did I say anything? Oh, my god. I'm going to jail. You're going to report me. Jebus."_

"_Relax, Jess. I don't really care for structured government laws much."_

_They were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. It was the Doctor._

"_Jess, this is my dad. Dad, this is Jess. I think I have to go now. Bye guys!" She called to her other acquaintances, all gushing over a new shade of lipstick. They all bade her farewell and she left with the Doctor, making sure to take a right at the end of the street, right into Holman Street._

_=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=_

"Where are you, girlie?" Father of Mine called into the night. Magdalena had lost them the forest. Now she was waiting for them to find her, casually leaning against their not-so-invisible-ship-anymore. It only took another minute for the Family to discover her.

"What have you done?" Brother of Mine demanded, devastated.

"I turned your ship off. Then proceeded to destroy the circuits and computers with these nifty little things called magnets. You're stuck here." Magdalena informed them. "Now what to do with you?"

"Foolish girl." Mother of Mine spat. "You didn't think you would get away with this, did you?"

"Of course I did. And I am. Just look at me, I'm doing it now." Magdalena replied, opening her eyes wider, opening her mind, opening her very soul. All the Family could see was burning and pain and anger... fury more powerful than anything they had ever experienced. The light was everywhere. It consumed them and burned them until they couldn't look at her any longer. Sister turned away, shaking her head and crying while Mother hugged her and sobbed. Father wept and Brother swept his mother and sister into his arms. Magdalena started shaking. She was TARDIS and Timelord enough to survive it without issues, but just human enough to feel it burning. She reigned it in, the light and the power. All of time spread before her. She focused on the Family. Time rewinding. Mother was forced out of her human form as Jenny returned, Father turned back to the kindly farmer, Daughter became Lucy again and Son became Baines. With no where to go, no ship to go back to, their forms floated in the air helplessly. Magdalena dug in her pocket. She pulled out a Tupperware container.

"In you go." She commanded cheerfully. The Family drifted into the plastic container and Magdalena shut the lid.

* * *

"_I wish to go back to when I was 15, before Transylvania. I wish for time to be rewound around my body, and my body with it. I wish for my regenerations and the last... 189 years to be undone. They never happened to me, but everyone else will remember. I wish to never ask or want to know what happened. That's it."_

_The GENIE worked its magic and all of a sudden, Magdalena found herself standing in this strange dark basement with the Doctor sitting on a chair, looking concerned. There was a strange little creature with a vague resemblance to a platypus staring at her. A beefy man scooped it up, patting it.  
"Good boy." The man cooed, surprisingly tenderly._

"_Come on." The Doctor said, standing and guiding her towards the flight of stairs leading up._

_=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=_

"Where am I?" Jenny asked. She had awoken in the school's infirmatory.  
"You're at the school, Jenny. Do you remember who I am?" Matron was leaning over her.

"Of course, ma'am. You're Matron Joan Redfern."

"How are you feeling."

"I'm fine, ma'am. I just don't understand how I got here."

"I don't quite understand it myself, Jenny."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"What do we do now?" Martha asked. Magdalena shrugged her shoulders. Around her neck she wore the fob watch – the Doctor's conciousness – on a long gold chain.

"Should we just open the watch?" Martha elaborated.

"I don't know. Well, we have to open it, obviously. Should we give Mr. Smith some time to say goodbye or something?"

"Yes." A low male voice interrupted their hushed conversation. They were sitting in Magdalena's quarters, on the couch in front of the fire. John was standing in the doorway. He stepped inside.

"Is that what you were going to do? Just open the watch and end my life? Just murder me?" He whispered, uncharacteristically harsh. "Are you going to answer me? Martha? Miss Moncrieff?" Mr Smith turned his attention to Martha.

"They weren't meant to find us. I was just meant to open the watch after three months. The Doctor didn't really say anything about... well, about _you_."

"Is that who this 'Doctor' is, though? Am I just an invention to... to what? Save him?" John hissed angrily.

"No. You're an invention to save _them_. The Family. By hiding, and letting them die... he was being kind."

"I don't understand." John whispered.

"To live forever isn't the issue. The issue is if you can live with _yourself_ forever." Martha explained. "And think about what the Family would have done if they lived. They would have destroyed entire worlds and ancient civilisations, built up an empire based on death. That is why the Doctor hid."

"Am I just meant to die now? Is that it?"

Martha couldn't answer. They were interrupted by the door creaking open. It was the Matron.

"They're all fine, now. They don't remember a thing." She informed them.

"Well that's... good." Mr Smith said, not quite sure what to say. They stared at each other. Martha could sense some tension between John and Joan. Unbeknownst to them, Magdalena had stealthily left just after the Matron arrived, taking the watch with her. It took them awhile to realise she was gone.

* * *

"_Are you alright?" The Doctor asked._

"_Why the hell do you care?" Magdalena snapped back. "And where are people?" They were back in the TARDIS. Magdalena was referring to the lack of her half-siblings. "And what's this thing?" __She gestured to the watch._

"_Magenta, what's the last thing you remember?"_

"_Woah, man. Slow down. I think that's the most you've said to me in a few months."_

"_Seriously, Magenta."_

_She made a face at him. "Breakfast."_

"_Breakfast when?"_

"_It's my birthday. My fifteenth birthday, and the last thing I remember is you being sickeningly affectionate towards that thing you call a daughter."_

"_Transylvania? The Valeyard? Do you remember that?"_

"_What the hell are you talking about?"_

_The Doctor stood speechless for a moment before sweeping her into a bear hug._

* * *

They found her on the roof, in the freezing cold, staring at the watch. She was holding it in front of her, although it was still attached to the chain. She seemed to be... _communicating_ with it. Properly communicating with it, none of the 'Latimer born with psychic field around him' bullshit. Magdalena sniffed, as if she were displeased, before taking the chain off and tossing it to Martha.

"Have fun with that." She said angrily. She stalked off, muttering things along the lines of 'stupid bastard' and 'goddamn motherfucking moron'.

"I suppose you should take this." Martha handed the watch to John and wandered away, just far enough to give them some privacy.

"Well, John..." Joan began, not sure what to say.

"Now that the Family's gone... I don't see why I necessarily need to change back. At least, not yet." John said.

"I don't either." Joan replied. "Silly thing." She said, taking the watch from him. In that second, they both saw an entire life ahead of them – a happy life, a life with them together and a family.

"And Miss Moncrieff could take Martha home, or they could go travelling together." John added. They were getting excited now, the prospect of Not Having To Open the Watch taking hold.

"And if this Doctor is so brilliant, he'll find a suitable form to slip into." Joan theorised excitedly.

"Yes, yes, it's brilliant!" John exclaimed. The happy couple kissed in celebration. "Hah!" John cried in a very Doctor-esque way.

"John, John! Can you see those?" Joan pulled on his arm and pointed into the air.

"See wha-, oh, god!" Reapers were coming towards them.

"Get inside you idiots!" Martha yelled at them. They made it inside just before the Reapers reached them.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Magenta was more angry than she could ever remember being. "Oh, wait. I know. You thought 'Oh, the crisis is averted, therefore there's no need for me to let the Doctor come back'. Oh, you _stupid, ignorant, selfish_ humans. Fucking apes." She had launched into a tirade the second she had seen them at the bottom of the stairs. "Bloody fantastic. We've got Reapers trying to get in." Her eyes sparked brightly for a second before she gasped and stumbled backwards. "Not now, not now, not now." She chanted while the others simply stared at her. "The school's ancient, they're not getting in." She mumbled to herself before shooting them a dirty look. "Give me that." She snatched the watch from him, their fingers brushing. It was just enough for them to be send into a 'would-be-future' sequence.

"_I'll open the watch!" John screamed at the Reapers. They disappeared as quickly as they had come. "Just not today." He muttered. Magdalena looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face._

_He was getting married to Joan, and he should be happy, but he could feel Magdalena there. He could feel her watching him._

_His first child was born (the first of several). His wife was crying from elation, pain and hormones as they held their daughter. He could feel burning anger. It wasn't his, or Joan's, or anybody else's in the room. As always, he could never see her, but he could always feel her._

_The rest of his life flashed before them, but **always** could he feel her waiting, watching._

_He was on his deathbed, and it was Magdalena, not Joan, who nursed him. She only looked about a year older than she did now._

"_Is everybody safe?" He rasped. She nodded, then hesitated._

"_Everybody except me." In an instant, as he felt death's warm embrace come upon him, he saw her crying and heard the scream of the Reapers coming to collect her._

Magdalena lost her grip on the watch and whispered a single, two-syllabled word. John opened his eyes in surprise, trying to figure out what she meant by it. She shook herself and reconcentrated.

"Can't we do something to get rid of them?" Joan asked.

"Martha, you're this Doctor's companion. Can't you help? What exactly do you do for him? Why does he need you?" John enquired.

"Because he's lonely." Came Martha's simple answer.

"And that's what you want me to become." John said. There was a particularly loud bang as one Reaper tried to knock its way through the wall.

"We have to move." Magdalena said. "Reapers are repelled by old things. The oldest part of the school is the residential building."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

They didn't run, or scream hysterically, but their fear, in particular the fear of the raven-haired teenager could be felt by all.

"Well what about you? Couldn't you leave?" The Matron asked Magenta.

"I could. And they'd follow me. But then where would that leave me? And, really, it's not at all my fault they're here. It's kinda your fault for not seeing the bigger picture." She turned to John. "See, the thing about the Doctor is that it's not like this is the biggest thing that's ever happened to him. You know that. You've dreamed it, except they weren't dreams, they were his memories. And he's not going to stop. He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the centre of time and he can see the turn of the universe." She paused for effect. "And he's wonderful. And he won't stop saving people's lives. I swear to you. He won't stop fighting until the day he dies, and that will be long after you would hypothetically be dead. See, in the time that you live and the Doctor doesn't, a ridiculous amount of people will be getting into potentially fatal situations from which the Doctor would usually save them. But we won't have the Doctor, we'll have you."

"You want me to die, is that it?"  
"No, not die. But we need the Doctor back much more than we need..." She trailed off, realising how harsh it would sound.

"Why are they after you, anyway?" Joan asked after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Because my existence is a paradox without the Doctor."

"Why?"

"Because without him I have no creator."

"What do you mean?" Joan asked. Magenta just shrugged and looked at her feet.

"Oh." John cried, realising what she'd meant after they'd seen the possible Doctor-free future. _Father_. "Oh." He repeated, more subdued. "Are you an only child?"

"No. I have a brother and sister. Sort of. Not so much the sister anymore."

"What's your mother's name?"

Magdalena had to pause for a second before answering. "Rose. Although she's not around anymore, either."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I don't understand." Joan interjected.

"Me neither." Martha agreed. Magdalena tore her gaze away from her shoes to stare at Martha. "I think John can make his decision without me here, Martha." She gave the watch to John with one last meaningful look before slipping away.

"Martha, you knew what was going to happen. You knew this all along and yet you watched while Nurse Redfern and I--"

"I didn't know how to stop you! He gave me a list of things to watch out for but that wasn't included."

"Falling in love? That didn't even occur to him?"

"No." Martha replied. "Because he's already in love. With Rose."

"But Rose isn't here." John clarified.

"No. Truth is, I don't really know what happened to her." There was an awkward silence.

"Martha, could we have a few moments alone, please?" John requested.

"Of course. I'll just... go." Martha replied and left awkwardly.

=-=-=-=

"We could have that future, John." Joan said.

"I know, Joan. But for us to get married and have a family... we'll be destroying another."

"One of you has to die. It's either you or Miss Moncrieff and, as horrible as it sounds, I'd rather it be her."

"But that's just it! Don't you see it? It's me! I'm meant to die, otherwise these creatures wouldn't be coming for her."

"Who is she, John? Why is she so important? What is she?"

John paused to consider his answer. "I think," He began, "I think she's his daughter. Obviously the Doctor and Rose haven't... yet, or we wouldn't have an issue. And it's bigger than her. The whole universe is out there... calling for the Doctor. They need him much more than anyone needs me."

"Don't say that."

"It's true, though, isn't it Joan? The universe needs a hero more than a made-up schoolteacher. Honestly, who would miss me?"  
"I would." Joan answered fiercly.

"He won't love you."  
"If he's not you, then I don't want him to. I had one husband, and he died...I never thought...ever again. And then you...you were so..."

"It was real. I wasn't...I really thought..."

"Blasted thing." Joan said, taking the watch from his hand. This time the watch didn't show them their future... it showed them the Doctor's.

_Jackie holding a magnificent gun, standing next to a noble Mickey. Running towards Rose. A white wedding. Rose holding a black-haired baby with one man on both sides (one was Jack, the other was unknown). A small toddler grinning mischieviously up at the Doctor inside the TARDIS. Two infants, one in a pink blanket and one in a blue blanket, being handed to him. A birthday party – the infants were now one year old. Their older sister felt hate for the first time. Running. Running from a magnificent wookie-like beast, 12-year-old Magenta in tow. Listening to Glenn Miller, feeling depressed but happy at the same time. Eating chips from the shop around the corner from the Powell Estate._

"Did you see?"

"The Time Lord has such adventures, but I didn't think he could ever have a life like that."

"And yet I could!" John examined the watch again.

"What are you going to do?"

John turned to her, breathing heavily, but didn't answer.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"What are you doing?" Martha hissed.

"I'm showing them what the Doctor will have." Magenta replied.

=/=/=/=/=/=/=

"_What are you doing?" Magenta asked, freaked out slightly by the Doctor's hug. He hadn't let go yet._

"_I'm giving my daughter a hug. What does it look like?"_

"_What? Daughter? That's new."_

=/=/=/=/=/=/=

The Reaper's screeching stopped. That meant one of two things. Magenta grinned and ran into the corridor.

"Have you done it yet?" She asked John energetically.

"No."  
"Good, that's good. I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. Like not letting me fall out of that window and not questioning me and for choosing... well, me over her." She nodded at the Matron. "And my family, of course. Not just me... yeah, so thank you. Don't open it yet, I want to try something. But, just before I do that... are you _really_ sure you want her?"

"Yes, of course." Mr Smith answered promptly.

"Like, really sure? Coz I could accidentally let the Doctor go, or be left with a brain-dead carbon copy of you, or something else I haven't thought of yet."

"Yes, I'm really sure."

"Even though you know this might not work out?"

"Yes."  
"Even though you've only known her a few months?"  
"Yes."  
"Even though you know another dude's stuck his di-"

"I think they get the point." Martha interrupted.

"Well, I mean, I know it's a self-preservation instinct as well. Like letting yourself die goes against every instinct in your body. So don't feel too flattered." She directed her last sentence at the Matron, who gave Magdalena an icy look.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"You sure this'll work?" Martha asked Magenta quietly.

She grinned manically in response. "No idea. You ready, John?" She called out to him from across the TARDIS. He was hooked up to the modified chameleon arch, looking extremely nervous.

"I think so." He replied. Magenta pulled the lever down to start the machine (because pushing a button is really cliche'd). There were no screams of pain or contortion of bodies this time, because this time no DNA was being changed, simply a consciousness being transferred into a watch. Just a few more seconds and... done. She took the second watch out of the chameleon arch and put it in her pocket. She then took a blood sample from the empty (but still functioning) John Smith's body before opening the Doctor's watch. While he got his bearings with Martha's assistance, Magenta darted away into the TARDIS to find the old cloning machine that had been disregarded years ago. She found it in a storeroom almost half a kilometre away from where Martha, the Doctor and a shellshocked Matron remained. She fed the blood sample into the old machine (Old, yes, but reliable). She waited impatiently for the doors to open.

"Oh, come _on_." She huffed only a second before the machine was done. The doors opened to reveal a blank John Smith. She pulled out the watch and hesitated before opening it. "Come on, please work." She whispered.

"Where am I?" The proper English accent washed over her. "Miss Moncrieff?"

"Oh, John. I think we're a bit beyond formality here. Now let's go join the others."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Nurse Redfern cried when she saw John. They hugged and kissed and whispered sweet nothings to each other. It made Martha naseaus. Shortly thereafter the Doctor and Martha left, leaving Magenta to go back to her father and brother, and John and Joan to resume their lives. Everything proceeded as usual for Martha and the Doctor until...

* * *

_James stepped back when she entered the TARDIS. His hands went to protect his crotch automatically. She gawked at him, clearly recognising him, but amazed at his appearance for some reason._

_=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=_

The end of the universe...


	19. Chapter 19

Author's notes: Hey guys! What's up? Sorry for the lack of updates. I was a bit busy, but now I'm on holidays. At least you haven't been waiting as long as my Veronica Mars fic readers.

And sorry if things don't make sense. I wasn't quite sure where I was up to at the end of the last chapter. I think it joins okay-ish. Maybe. Hopefully. Tell me if it doesn't and I'll try to fix it. I'm trying to finish this by Christmas. Maybe. Hopefully before… well, if you know what's coming up in canon the next two episodes, I'm sure you'll figure it out. If you don't know, I don't want to spoil it for you.

OMFG! I'm so sorry! You know, I had an entire chapter I actually forgot to upload just sitting there on my backup hard drive? Good thing I checked before I uploaded this.

Disclaimer: Don't own it. It's fanfiction etc.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"_Then what happened?"_

"_I slipped. I was falling toward the Void when your grandad Pete came across. Just for a second, and he saved me."_

"_And then you went away."_

"_That's right, sweetheart. And then I followed your daddy's voice all the way to Norway… to Bad Wolf Bay. We said goodbye, we thought it was forever… until it wasn't."_

_=-=-=-=-=-=_

Martha, Jack and the Doctor stared in horror at the screen. It was the Master, masquerading himself as Harold Saxon, for the whole world to see.

"I said I knew that voice. When he spoke inside the TARDIS. I've heard that voice hundreds of times. I've seen him. We all have. That was the voice of Harold Saxon." Martha exclaimed, unbelieving. A flash of movement on the screen caught the Doctor's attention.

"Did you see that?"

"No."

"See what?" Jack asked.

"Never mind." The Doctor paused fore a moment and shook his head. "He's the Prime Minister! The Master is Prime Minister of Great Britain." The Master kissed the pretty blonde woman at his side. "The Master and his wife."

The Master stepped forward, preparing to speak.

"This country has been sick. " He said. "This country needs healing. This country needs medicine. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that, what this country really needs, right now…is a doctor."

* * *

"_But how did I do that?"_

"_I don't know! All I know is you were there in 1913 before we were."_

"_But how did I get there?"_

"_I don't know. You told me you were in 2007 one second and 1913 the next."_

"_With no TARDIS? No time vortex manipulator?"_

"_Look, I don't know exactly how it happened… but… I do have a few theories…"_

* * *

"It just shifts your perception a tiny little bit. Doesn't make us invisible, just unnoticed. Oh, I know what it's like. It's like—it's like when you fancy someone and they don't even know you exist. That's what it's like. " The Doctor, Martha and Jack were in an abandoned warehouse, devising their plan of attack. A sudden scuffle from the shadows made all three whip their heads around to the source of the sound.

"You heard that, didn't you?" Martha asked.

"Yeah."

"It's probably just a rat… but still, just to be sure…" The Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver, preparing to cast light on the intruder when gust of wind blew around them and a whisper of sound (a little like the TARDIS disappearing) resonated through the warehouse. The Doctor peered into the corner, now illuminated by blue light. Nothing.

"Oh, hang on a minute." He said.

"What?" Jack asked.

"There's something in the air." The Doctor opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. "It's like… time energy. The background radiation from the TARDIS. But that can't be right…"

"Doctor, I hate to interrupt this little mystery session, but what about Saxon?" Jack asked in his ever so charming American drawl.

"Ah, yes. Sorry. Off we go!"

* * *

"_Control it!"_

"_I can't!"_

"_Just listen to my voice. Block everything else out and listen to my voice. Now, just pull it back in. You control it, it doesn't control you. Can you feel it?"  
"Yes, yes, I-" The last of the golden energy was sucked back into her body. She let out a shuddery breath. "I did it."_

* * *

"As if a perception filter's gonna work on me." The Master sneered at the Doctor after the Doctor's failed attempt at saving the Earth. "Oh, and look, it's the girlie and the freak. Although, I'm not sure which one's which. " Jack rushed at him, only to be killed temporarily by the Master's laser screwdriver. "Laser screwdriver, who'd have sonic? And the good thing is, he's not dead for long. I get to kill him again!"

"Master, just calm down. Just look at what you're doing. Just stop. If you could see yourself…" The Doctor tried to reason. The Master sighed and turned to the camera.

"Oh, do excuse me, little bit of personal business. Back in a minute." He turned to the guards. "Let him go."

"It's that sound, the sound in your head. What if I could help?"

"What if I've already met someone who can help, someone who understands? That friend of yours. The schoolgirl. They're getting younger every time now, aren't they?"

"Please, I can help you."

"Oh, how to shut him up? I know. Memory Lane! Professor Lazarus. Remember him? And his genetic manipulation device?

"Did you think that little Tish got that job merely by coincidence? I've been laying traps for you all this time. And if I can concentrate all that Lazarus technology into one little screwdriver…But, ooh, if I only had the Doctor's biological code. Oh, wait a minute, I do!" The Master ran to the silver case to reveal the Doctor's hand. " I've got his hand! And if Lazarus made himself younger, what if I reverse it? Another hundred years?"

The Master aimed his screwdriver at the Doctor and fired, making him scream and convulse as the years were forced upon him. Jack gasped awake and pressed his manipulator into Martha's hands.

"Teleport."

"I can't." Martha protested.

"We can't stop him. Get out of here. Get out."

The Master released the Doctor, who now looked like a wrinkled old man. Martha crawled to join him.

"Doctor, I've got you." She assured him.

"Aw, she's a would-be doctor. But tonight, Martha Jones, we've flown 'em in all the way from prison—" The Master gestured toward the doors as they slid open, revealing Francine, Clive, Tish and their guards.

"Mum." Martha whispered.

Francine was crying softly as she replied. "I'm sorry."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"_I'm so sorry."_

"_It's not your fault."_

_He looked down at the girl in the bed in front of him. Blood was dripping from her nose quickly, she was lucky her body could replenish blood almost as quickly as she lost it._

"_I shouldn't have pushed you so hard. I didn't know this would happen."_

"_It's fine." She assured him._

_He looked down at her, as if confused. He'd never wanted to hurt her, but that's all he ever seemed to do._

* * *

"The Toclafane, who are they? Who are they?" The Doctor asked.

"Doctor, if I told you the truth, your hearts would break." The Master replied.

The first Toclafane asked if it was time.

"Is it time?"

"Is it ready?" The other male Toclafane enquired.

"Is the machine singing?" Their female companion was equally as impatient.

"Two minutes past." The Master declared as he checked his watch. He mounted the steps and stood next to his wife. "So! Earthings. Basically, um, end of the world. Here…come…the drums!"

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"_Do you know why you're special? Why you can do things that I can't?"_

_She shook her head as the blood flow stopped._

"_Time Lords and TARDIS's evolved from the same organism. It was a like a proto-organism, not quite a plant, but not quite an animal, saturated in time energy. Then the species split as the mountains began to form. From there, the TARDIS's just got bigger, developed as plants and could control time, for lack of a better word. The Time Lords simply grew to have minds above all others, although our form was quite similar to that of a human. We lived with the TARDIS's, not really seeing their function, until we started experimenting with machinery. Then they took on a mind of their own and developed in ways no one really understood. I wondered what would happen if, instead of machinery, a TARDIS was grown with a biological sample. And, well, here you are."_

* * *

The Rogue Trader's 'Voodoo Child' pumped through the speakers as the paradox machine activated. Above the Valiant, the sky tore apart to create a rift through which thousands of Toclafane exited.

"How many do you think?" The Master asked Lucy.

"I don't know."

"Six billion." He switched on the outside speakers. "Down you go, kids!"

The Toclafane flooded the Earth, targeting the big cities. People ran into the streets and the Toclafane began shooting indiscriminately.

"Shall we decimate them? That sounds good. Nice word—decimate. Remove one-tenth of the population!" The Master ordered.

Martha cried when she heard the messages coming from Earth.

"Valiant, this is Geneva! We're getting slaughtered down here!"

Martha stood.

"Help us, for God's sake! Help us! They're everywhere!"

"This is London, Valiant! This is London calling! What do we do?!"

Martha looked at her family.

"They're killing us! The Toclafane are killing us!" With one last look at the Doctor, Martha activates the teleporter. Jack and the Doctor exchanged a look before the Doctor turned to look at Saxon.

Martha arrived in a field outside of London, looking on to the carnage that was the city.

"I'm coming back." She promised and ran off.

Saxon forced the Doctor to watch on as the Earth was destroyed.

"And so it came to pass…that the human race fell and the Earth was no more. And I looked down upon my new dominion as master of all and I thought it…good."


	20. Chapter 20

Author's notes: Yeah, so I recommend rewatching this episode unless you're really very familiar with it (because I was too lazy to just write the bits I didn't use and they weren't pertinent to my plot).

I wanted to have this chapter written a few nights ago, but I got distracted by the Dexter season finale (which I downloaded _completely legally_ (laughs) and, can I just say: OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!!! She's finally dead! Finally.), I also wrote a piece for a string quartet in about an hour (what can I say? Sibelius was right there waiting for me… calling for me). I also wrote a piece for piano, cello and electric bass called 'Magdalena's Theme' specifically for this story. If anyone cares that much, I can send you the Sibelius file or as a MIDI file. Or the first minute of it as an mp3. And I dyed parts of my hair purple. Just saying.

Disclaimer: Don't own it, 'kay?

If you're one of those people that skips over author's notes: _**Rewatch or read the script for this episode. It'll make loads more sense if you do. I was too lazy to write in the bits that aren't relevant to my plot.**_

* * *

"Citizens rejoice. Your lord and master stands on high playing Track 3." The Master announced over the P.A. As he flounced around the Valiant, Jack pulled at his chains lightly, testing his strength at the same moment Martha looked skyward from Earth.

"It's ready to rise, Doctor. The new Time Lord Empire. It's good, isn't it? Isn't it good? Anything? No? Anything?" He waved his hand in front of the Doctor's stoic face. _"_Oh, but they broke your hearts, didn't they? Those Toclafane, ever since you worked out what they really are. They say Martha Jones…has come back home. Now why would she do that?"

"Leave her alone." The Doctor said gruffly.

"But you said something to her, didn't you? On the day I took control_. _What did you tell her?"

"I have one thing to say to you. You know what it is."

"Oh, no you don't!" The Master pushed the Doctor (in a wheelchair) away. "But you know what else I don't understand?" Getting no response from the Doctor, the Master continued. "How you managed to get a message to your dear little Magenta. And you know, Doctor, I know exactly what she is and who she will be to you. What you'll do to her." He paused for dramatic effect. "And she's here right now, only I don't know where. How is it, Doctor, that every time I'm close to finding her, she disappears?" He made an exaggerated confused face. "Now, my scanners tell me there's no Time Lord technology on board that doesn't belong to me. There's been no trace of teleportation, no invisibility force fields, nothing that could hide her from me. And, you know, I think she might be trying to send a message to you. Can you tell me, Doctor, why on Earth it would be that she keeps leaving roses around the place? Pictures of a young blonde woman?"

At this, the Doctor raised his eyebrows slightly, almost imperceptibly, and struggled to keep a straight face.

"I can hear her, Doctor. All the time. It's that song, always. With the drums. Can't you hear them, Doctor? She knows, that girl. She knows. And she can help."

"_Valiant_ now entering Zone One airspace. Citizens rejoice." The P.A. announced.

"Come on, people!" The Master clapped his hands together. "What are we doing? Launch Day in 24 hours!"

The Doctor signalled Francine with three fingers pressed subtly against his thigh.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"_I'm beginning to remember things." She told him. "From before. When I was on Earth, in London, at high school in '06 and '07. I remember the Master, and I remember Allie. It's a bit fuzzy, and there's lots of blank spots, especially around 'the incidents' as you call it. I remember Transylvania. It was raining. I don't remember anything past walking out the door."_

_He sighed in relief while cursing GENIES. "Best not to."_

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"No, it's my turn. Revenge! Best served hot. And this time… It's a message for Miss Jones." The Master was enraged after the failed escape attempt. He addressed what was left of the world, shrinking the Doctor down with a further 800 years of age as he did so.

"Once the empire is established and there's a new Gallifrey in the heavens, maybe then… it stops. Without the help of that little schoolgirl of yours. The drumming. The never-ending drumbeat.

"Ever since I was a child. I looked into the vortex. That's when it chose me. The drumming, the call to war. Can't you hear it? Listen, it's there now. Right now. Tell me you can hear it, Doctor. Tell me."

"It's only you." The Doctor told him.

"Good." The Master replied.

The doors opened and one of the spheres drifted in.

"Tomorrow, the war. Tomorrow we rise. Never to fall." It proclaimed.

"You see? I'm doing it for them! You should be grateful! After all, you love them. So very, very much." The Master mocked the Doctor through the bars of the Doctor's cage.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Martha was telling the people in the crowded house about the Doctor when the woman that met them at the door pushed her way through the crowd.  
"It's him! It's him! Oh my God, it's him! It's the Master! He's here!"

Martha stood.

"But he never comes to Earth!" A boy protested. "He never walks upon the ground!"

"Hide her!" The woman commanded.

Outside, the Master was calling for her.

"Martha. Martha Jo-hones." He made his voice go high-pitched. "I can see you!" He returned to his regular tone. "Out you come, little girl. Come and meet your master. Anybody? Nobody? No? Nothing? Positions! I'll give the order unless you surrender. Ask yourself—what would the Doctor do?"

Inside, Martha prepared herself to greet the Master. He was waiting impatiently, knowing his last comment would smoke her out.

"You know," An unexpected voice interrupted his thoughts, "just to clear up that confusion of yours, I've been waiting for you to mention the roses and photos to the Doctor. He knows what I'm doing… probably. And see, I don't know what happened exactly to make my sister disappear or when it happened. That's why I've been hanging around. That, and I like annoying you. All I can do is remind him. All the time. Of Rose. So he can never, ever forget her. Ever."

"Where are you?" He called.

"Up here, you stupid bastard." She replied. He looked up to see her standing on the roof of the house Martha was in, her blonde hair and long, flowy white dress making her look like some ethereal being. Like a guardian angel. She disappeared and reappeared in front of him. Her quick fingers darted up to touch his temples. For a few seconds, just a few seconds, the drumming disappeared. And then she was gone. Simultaneously, Martha appeared from the house.

"Oh, yes!" The Master clapped. "Oh, very well done! Good girl! He trained you well." Martha walked into the street. "Bag. Give me the bag. No, stay there. Just throw it." Martha surrended her bag to the bitumen, only to have it destroyed by the Master's laser screwdriver. "And now, good companion," The Master said, "your work his done." He held out his laser, as if to shoot Martha.

"No!" Tom ran into the street with his gun trained on the Master. The Master quickly shot Tom down.

"But you…when you die, the Doctor should be witness, hm? Almost dawn, Martha. And planet Earth marches to war."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Dying in your arms. Happy now?" The Master asked, having just been shot by Lucy.

"You're not dying, don't be stupid. It's only a bullet. Just regenerate." The Doctor commanded.

"No."

"One little bullet. Come on."

"Yes, Master. Come on." Magdalena appeared. She knelt down with the Doctor and the Master. She brushed her hands along his temples, making the drumming – that horrible, incessant, maddening drumming – stop.

"I guess you don't know me so well. I refuse."

"Regenerate. Just regenerate." The Doctor was breaking up. " Please! Please! Just regenerate! Come on!"

"And spend the rest of my life imprisoned with you?" The Master asked disdainfully.

"You've got to. Come on. It can't end like this. You and me, all the things we've done. Axons? Remember the Axons? And the Daleks? We're the only two left, there's no one else. Regenerate!"

"How about that? I win." He breathed in a shaky breath. "It's stopped, Doctor. The drumming. It finally stopped." He had a look of euphoria on his face just before he died that broke the Doctor's hearts. The Doctor held the Master close, rocking him back and forth as he cried. He screamed (not girlishly) for the loss of his friend-turned-enemy. For all of his 900 years, he'd known the Master. His oldest living acquaintance was gone… forever… The others just stood there awkwardly. Glad the Master was dead, confused at the Doctor's reaction, unsure of this girl who literally just appeared and seemed to make the Master happy, who was still simply kneeling next to the Doctor and the Master as he howled in grief.

* * *

That night, the Doctor lit the Master's funeral pyre with heavy hearts, ladened with grief and sorrow. He watched for a moment before walking away, no emotion on his face.

"Are you okay?" Magdalena appeared in front of him, testing her new mode of travel. The Doctor just looked at her, his eyes conveying all he couldn't say. "Would it make you feel better to do this properly?" She asked, referring to the traditional Gallifreyan funeral proceedings.

"Yeah." He croaked. She gave him a sympathetic half-smile, took his hand, and together they walked back to the burning pyre. Jack and Martha watched from the TARDIS, a good 20 metres away. They looked on as the Doctor and Magdalena knelt in front of the flames and looked as if they were praying. Half an hour later, they walked back, still hand-in-hand. Martha and Jack could hear them speaking in low voices to each other, a strangely beautiful language rolling of their tongues. Magdalena looked at them and sighed.

"That's the thing, though." She said to the Doctor in English. "Now the Master's gone, it's just you."

"What about you?" The Doctor asked.

"Yes and no. Essentially yes, I have the same biology, but… there's more. I'll tell you one day, unless you figure it out before then. It's kinda complicated." They walked inside together, automatically beginning to co-pilot the TARDIS.

"Back to Cardiff then, Jack?" The Doctor asked.

* * *

Back in Cardiff, Jack had just told the Doctor that he was going to stay in Cardiff to look after his team.

"And what about me?" Jack asked. "Can you fix that? Will I ever be able to die?"

"Yes."

"No." Magdalena and the Doctor answered simultaneously. They looked at each other.

"One day, Jack. Even if it takes millions and billions of years, you'll die. Nothing can exist forever." She told him. The Doctor shook his head.

"How do you know that?"

She looked at him and tilted her head to the side. "I just do."

"You can't just know something!"

"Yes, I can!"

"No, you can't!"

"Can!"

"Can't!"

"Can!"

"Can't!"

"Can!"

"Alright!" Martha stopped them. Magdalena poked her tongue out at him. He returned the gesture. "Enough, now. You're behaving like children." She admonished.

"Damn straight." Magdalena said.

"Alright, then." Jack began. "Sir. Ma'am. Mademoiselle. " He turned to leave, but stopped. "But I keep wondering…what about aging? 'Cause I can't die but I keep getting older. The odd little grey hair, you know? What happens if I live for a million years?"

Magdalena coughed, sounding a little like she said 'giant face'.

"I really don't know." The Doctor said.

"Okay, vanity. Sorry." Jack chuckled. "Yeah, can't help it. Used to be a poster boy when I was a kid back on the Boeshane Pennisula. Tiny little place. I was the first one ever to be signed up for the Time Agency. They were so proud of me. They Face of Boe they called me. Hmm, I'll see you." He ran across the Plaza to the water tower.

"Can't be." Martha said.

"No, definitely not. No. No." The Doctor agreed.

Magdalena shrugged her shoulders and sighed. "You'd be surprised."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The Doctor reclined back on the captain's seat-couch-thing with his feet resting on the console, the canister with his hand in it tucked under the console safely. Martha entered the TARDIS, and the Doctor peered at her around the central column. God knows where Magdalena had got to.

"Right then!" He stood up. "Off we go! The open road! There is a burst of starfire right now over the coast of Meta Sigmafolio. Oh, the sky is like oil on water. Fancy a look? Or…back in time. We could…I don't know, Charles II? Henry VIII? I know! What about Agatha Christie? I'd love to meet Agatha Christie! I bet she's brilliant!"He noticed Martha wasn't smiling and sobered to match her mood_._ "Okay."

"I just can't." She said.

"Yeah."

"Spent all these years training to be a doctor. Now I've got people to look after. They saw half the planet slaughtered and they're devastated. I can't leave them." Martha explained.

"Of course not." He smiled at her. "Thank you." They hugged. "Martha Jones, you saved the world."

"Yes, I did. I spent a lot of time with you thinking I was second best. But you know what? I _am_ good. You gonna be all right?" She asked.

"Always. Yeah."

"Right, then." She kissed him on the cheek and walked out before turning around and going back into the TARDIS. "'Cause the thing is, it's like my friend Vicky, she lived with this bloke, student housing, there were five of them, all packed in, and this bloke was called Sean. And she loved him, she did. She completely adored him. Spent all day long talking about him."

"Is this going anywhere?" The Doctor asked, slightly rudely.

"Yes! 'Cause he never looked at her twice. I mean, he liked her, but that was it. And she wasted years pining after him, years of her life, 'cause while he was around, she never looked at anyone else. And I told her, I always said to her, time and time again, I said: Get out. So this is me, getting out." She explained before grabbing her mobile and tossing it to him_._ "Keep that. 'Cause I'm not having you disappear. If that rings, _when_ that rings, you better come running. Got it?"

"Got it." He said.

"I'll see you again, mister." She smiled and left. The Doctor started up the TARDIS, feeling that inevitable feeling of hurt and betrayal he felt every time a companion willingly left him.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Wa-bam. Martha left. Knew she would." Magdalena was back. She automatically began helping him pilot from the other side of the console.

"How do you do that?" He asked. "It's really annoying."

"I know, but it's really fun. For me, at least."

"Yeah, but how do you do that?"

"Comes with the genetics, man."

"But you're a Time Lady. You have the same genetics as me, and I can't do that."

"Oh, dude," She began, "So close, yet so far. My chosen mode of travel is just one of the abilities I picked up from being a biologically-grown TARDIS. You know, like grown around genetic material into a person instead of being grown into machinery and made a ship."

"Did you have a Gallifreyan genetic material donor?" The Doctor asked.

"No. You know, I wondered about that myself, but then I was thinking about how Time Lords and TARDIS's came from the same proto-being type thing, so really, it's like parallel evolution sped up a lot. Sure, there're a few differences, like I have an estrous cycle and an appendix, but that's more because of the genetic donors' species than the reaction of the TARDIS seed with biological matter." She took in a deep breath. "I should probably breathe more when I talk."

"Just while you're in the mood for answering, why did you keep leaving roses and pictures of Rose for the Master to see?"

She shrugged. "It was easier to leave them in his bedroom and around the corridors and stuff than where you were 'coz there were always guards walking around. Honestly, I don't know why he bothered, because, really, you managed a take-over attempt anyway. Failed miserably, but… yeah."

"Why did you keep leaving them around, though?"

She looked at him like he was an idiot. "To remind you. All the time. So you never, ever forget." The sentence ended in a silent 'duh'. "Something happens, I don't know what, to cause a paradox because you were being an idiot and I have to fix it. Except I have no idea at all of what the event is or when on your timeline it's gonna happen. I'm pretty sure it's got something to do with Rose, though, since that's the common factor with me and my half-sister. Well, like 25% sister, I dunno."

"So Rose is your mother?" The Doctor asked, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

"Ah…" She realised she'd said more than she wanted to. "Crap."

"Well then, who's your dad? And your siblings dad?"

"Ah… well… I mean, I'm more complicated than they are, but John Smith worked it out, so I'm pretty sure you have an idea at least."

"Why do you have to be so elusive?" The Doctor asked Magdalena.

"Why do you have to be such a wanker?" She shot back. "Seriously. Using a telepathic wavelength. Drawing power from millions of humans saying 'Doctor'? Epic wankerdom. You could have sent her to… I dunno… to visit the Sontarans, make them want to get revenge on the Master for not being allowed in the Time War. But no. You send her to Earth to get people to say 'Doctor'." She shook her head. "It's ludicrous, Doctor. I hope you realise that."

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Did it?"

"What does that even mean?" He asked, annoyed. She knew exactly how to play him, a fact he was quickly becoming aware of and equally quickly growing to dislike.

"One day you'll figure it out." She said in her usual, elusive manner. A ship's fog horn echoed around the TARDIS just before the front of a ship crashed through the TARDIS's wall.

"What?!" He coughed. "What?!" He picked up a lifering that read 'TITANIC'. "What?!" The Doctor and his slightly manipulative temporary companion started the TARDIS simultaneously, identical glints of adventure in their eyes.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Author's notes: So, I think I got around to explaining what I wanted to explain/reiterate slightly awkwardly through dialogue. I'm getting back around to sub-plots, don't worry. I didn't really see the point in featuring Magdalena too heavily or altering the story line with the Master because, seriously, it's not a story about her. I forgot that for awhile. Really, she's a plot device to alter canon (yay!). So I thought that, while I will resolve her own story line (as dark as it is), I should really move forward. And I didn't want to take Martha's credit away. I did come to the conclusion while writing this that this was the most ridiculous resolution of a Doctor Who episode I've ever come across. The power of hope via telepathic wavelengths? It's bs.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Notes:** Well, I'm about two years behind canon. Yeah!!! High fives!!!!! Well, this is my last update for 2009. I'm feeling strangely sentimental about it. Although, I am celebrating these last few hours by watching RHPS (There's a fire in my heart and you fan it, Janet!).

So, David Tennant in St Trinian's, eh? I haven't seen it yet (damn Australia!!!!) but I can't wait!

This is obviously only the first, like 10 minutes, and I would've gotten the whole thing done, but I keep getting distracted by Tommy Vercetti.

Disclaimer: No, I'm gonna be rebellious.

**=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=**

Together, Magdalena and the Doctor closed the TARDIS, repairing the hole and pushing out the ocean liner. The Doctor made the TARDIS materialise in the Titanic while Magdalena darted off the get changed into something more suitable. She came back in a red dress not suitable at all for the early 20th century.

"You do know how inappropriate that is, right?"

"Dude," She began. "Credit me with some intelligence, please. There's this thing called 'defiance'. I engage in it often." She said it lightly, with minimum sarcasm to try and ease some of the angry tension that appeared between them so easily.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

They stepped out of the TARDIS and found themselves in some sort of supply closet. They walked out to find themselves in a wood-panelled room decorated with Christmas ornaments and tinsel. People dressed in early 20th century dress were milling as the waiters passed through the room, serving hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The Doctor, with Magdalena by his side, approached two large, golden angels. They moved mechanically, indicating the fact they were robots. The Doctor moved to the window, while Magdalena hopped off to the bar (hey, it's an interspecies cruise, the bar tender won't know how old she is).  
"Right." The Doctor said in a drawn-out manner as understanding dawned upon him. Over the PA, a man announced that the Titanic was in orbit above Sol 3, also called Earth.  
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Christmas." The man continued over the PA.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The Doctor was watching Max Capricorn on the screen while his younger companion sipped a banana daiquiri at the bar. He fiddled with his tie, having gotten changed during the opening credits, I mean, the band's performance. He walked towards reception, passing a steward on his way. Another passenger, Rickston Slade, was talking into his phone.  
"It's not a holiday for me, not while I've still got my vone. Now do as I say and sell." Rickston commanded. The Doctor approached one of the robotic angels and found out they were on a cruise ship from Sto, with the aim to experience primitive cultures – 21st century Earth, apparently, one of them. The Doctor was about to pull out his screwdriver (my goodness, that sounds a bit dirty) to fix to malfunctioning Host, when the Chief Steward raced over to take the Host away and apologise.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"For Tov's sake, look where you're going! This jacket's a genuine Earth antique!" Rickston yelled at the waitress, Astrid Peth, after she dropped her tray of drinks because she's bumped into him. She apologised and got down to pick up the broken glass.

"You'll be sorry when it comes off your wages, sweetheart." Rickston said. "Staffed by idiots. No wonder Max Capricorn is going down the drain." He stormed off like a petulant idiot he was.

"Careful. There we go." The Doctor said as he helped Astrid.

"Thank you, sir. I can manage." Astrid told him.

"I never said you couldn't. I'm the Doctor, by the way." He introduced himself.

"Astrid, sir. Astrid Peth."

"Nice to meet you, Astrid Peth." He smiled. "Merry Christmas."

Surprised that a guest would condescend to talk to her and wish her Merry Christmas, Astrid took a second to reply.  
"Merry Christmas, sir."

"Just 'Doctor', not 'sir'." He told her.

"You enjoying the cruise?" She asked politely.

"Um...Yeah, I suppose. I don't know. It doesn't quite work, a cruise on your own."

"You're not with anyone?" She asked.

"No, no. my, uh… friend… she's wandering around here somewhere. Oh," He said, spotting Magdalena by one of the windows, the moonlight making her hair shine blonde. "There she is. What about you? Long way from home, Planet Sto."

"Doesn't feel that different. I spent three years working at the spaceport diner, travelled all the way here...and I'm still waiting on tables." She began walking away, only to be followed by the Doctor.

"No shore leave?"

Astrid began clearing tables by the window.

"We're not allowed. They can't afford the insurance. I just wanted to try it, just once. I used to watch the ships heading off to the stars and I always dreamt of...It sounds daft."

"You dreamt of another sky. New sun, new air, new life. A whole universe teeming with life. Why stand still when there're all that life out there?" The Doctor asked her rhetorically.

"So...you travel a lot?"

"Hells yeah." Magdalena interrupted. The Doctor and Astrid had wandered over to right near where she was leaning casually against the wall, banana daiquiri in hand.

"What is that?" He asked. She shrugged, holding it up for him to drink from. He took a sip and smiled faintly. Magdalena shot Astrid a look and tilted her head to the side. She pulled the Doctor down by his tie and whispered something into his ear.

"_You're a bit of a manwhore, Doctor. Even when you were with Rose, you couldn't keep it in your pants." _She whispered so Astrid couldn't hear her. With a particularly lustful look in her eyes, she kissed the Doctor's cheek to warn off Astrid. Because, really, if Rose couldn't be there to make him feel guilty, it was the least she could do. The Doctor, of course, missed all this from his view.

"That's a bit harsh." He whispered back to her.

She released him and smiled sweetly. "It's true." She turned to face Astrid. "Hi." She stuck her hand out. "I'm Magdalena."

"I'm Astrid. How about I get you two some drinks? On the house." Astrid hadn't been deterred by the younger girl's hijinks. After all, if they were _like that_, why wouldn't she kiss him on the lips?

"What was that all about?" He asked her.

"Because Astrid wants to jump you, and I want you to stop being so weak to the whiles of women."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Author's Notes: And, so, I conclude by saying HAPPY NEW YEAR… IN AN HOUR!!!!!!!!


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Notes:** Welcome to 2010!!!! Woooo! I've begun this chapter exactly 2 hours and 38 minutes into the new year. And finishing it about 2 weeks later. Yeah, no, but I'll actually do my best to give you something (as in a physical or soft object – but, yes, actually something) if anyone can spot the Grand Theft Auto: Vice City reference.

Oh, man. I just watched 'The End of Time'. Geronimo? Fuck you, you stupid Doctor Who writers. Oh, dudes. They fucked it up _good_. Worst casting ever. [Possible spoiler following] Although, whether they realise it or not, they have left a space open for David to come back (meta-crisis Doctor). Not that it's likely... but a girl can dream...

Sorry for the formatting, I don't know how it's turn out when I publish it. It's pretty screwed up here. Oh, jebus, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I just looked over chapter 20 and the formatting of the last paragraph was just.... gah! I have no idea what happened, but let me assure you it was completely accidental and I have absolutely no clue as to why it's like that. I fixed it, though, so now it doesn't make me want to stab my eyes.

Cutting scenes out again, because I'm still lazy. As always, I recommend re-watching the episode so you know what goes on in missing scenes (and to help with visualisation). Check out Planet Gallifrey TV if you haven't already.

Disclaimer: I don't freaking own it, okay?

* * *

The Doctor and Magdalena watched as Astrid left, passing a group of first-class passengers laughing at Morvin and Foon Van Hoof in matching purple country-western outfits.

"Seriously, though, what was that all about?" The Doctor asked.

"I told you, I want you to stop being so sexually attracted to people who aren't people I approve of."

"No," He said, "I got that part. Why did you kiss me on the cheek? You're very good at sending strange, confusing, mixed messages."

"Well," Magdalena's voice dropped a few tones and lowered in volume to become a very sexy purr. Her eyes filled with that lustful expression, as if she'd flipped a switch. "I wanted to ward Astrid off."

"So why are you talking like that now?"

"Because she's watching us. Please, just play along. Just let Astrid go."  
"Why should I sacrifice my own feelings just because you want me to?" The Doctor felt angry at the concept – being told what to do by a teenager? Not likely.

"I'll probably regret this… but I'll do anything you want me to do. I'll leave and never come back if you want me to. Anything you want me to do, I can do it. That doesn't involve sex or my immediate death." She told him, a determined glint in his eye. He studied her before answering.

"I'll think about it."

She narrowed her eyes slightly and her expression became chaste again. "Fine." She said angrily before stalking off, muttering something that sounding like 'stupid bastard'. He looked after her and sighed before sitting next to Morvin and Foon.

* * *

Mr Copper, the ship's resident Earth 'expert' was waiting for the passengers to assemble.

"Red 6-7. Red 6-7. This way, fast as you can." He commanded. The Doctor followed the Van Hoffs as they rushed over, only to be approached by Astrid.

"I got you that drink." She said, offering him the tray.

"And I got you a treat. Come on." He took the tray from her and set it on the table placed conveniently next to them.

"Red 6-7 departing shortly." Mr Copper announced. Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor saw Magdalena watching him, bordering on glaring at him. He felt the psychic paper pulling at his mind slightly to get his attention. He picked it out of his pocket to read the message 'If you call Astrid a 'plus-one', I'm gonna freaking kill you.' He looked up at Magdalena again. She tilted her head slightly and began walking over to him, putting on an extra sway in her hips for Astrid's benefit.

"Wasn't her hair blonde before?" Astrid asked, confused.

"Yeah, it changes colours. So does her skin. Her body chemistry is... unusual." The Doctor told her. Magdalena wasted no time in entwining her arm with the Doctor's.

"Red 6-7 plus two." The Doctor held the psychic paper up for Mr Copper to see.

"Uh, quickly, sir, and please take three teleport bracelets if you would." Mr Copper replied. Magdalena raised an eyebrow at the Doctor, her meaning not lost on him.

"I'll get the sack." Astrid whispered.

"With any luck." Magdalena said quietly but audibly as the Doctor handed both of them a bracelet.

"To repeat, I am Mr Copper, the ship's historian, and I shall be taking you to old London town in the country of U.K. ruled over by good King Wenceslas. Now human beings worshipped the great god Santa, a creature with fearsome claws, and his wife Mary. And every Christmas Eve the people of U.K. go to war with the country of Turkey. They then eat the Turkey people for Christmas dinner... like savages." Mr Copper announced for the group.

The Doctor and Magdalena looked at each other, frowning slightly. Astrid looked fascinated.

"Excuse me, sorry, sorry, but, um...where did you get all this from?" The Doctor asked.

"Well, I have a first class degree in Earthonomics. Now stand by..."

A high pitched voice interrupted them. "And me! And me! Red 6-7!" A small, spiky red-skinned alien ran up to them.

"Well, take a bracelet, sir." Mr Copper said.

"Uh, but, um, hold on, hold on. What was your name?" The Doctor asked.

"Bannakaffalatta." The red alien said.

"OK, Bannakaffalatta. But it's Christmas Eve down there. Late-night shopping, tons of people. He's like a walking conker. No offence, but you'll cause a riot 'cause the streets are going to be packed with shoppers and parties..." The Doctor began to explain. The group was teleported to Earth to be greeted by an empty street.

* * *

"Oh." The Doctor silenced himself when he saw the barren market. Astrid looked around in fascination. As Mr Copper explained a little more about the trip, Magdalena looked around feeling slightly sick. She glanced at the Doctor and felt a wave of anger wash over her. In another life, on Christmas Day, she got booted out of home and turned to the unfriendly streets of Earth. She turned to the Doctor with tears in her eyes.

"I'm gonna go." She told him, slipping off her teleportation bracelet, remembering exactly how she'd felt that day. Words failed to describe exactly what she was feeling. Of course, she didn't remember exactly what had led up to her losing it like that... just what it felt like.

"Are you okay?" He asked her softly. She shook her head and looked down. He touched her arm to get her attention. "What is it?" He asked.

She opened her mouth and tried to form a word before closing it again when words failed her. She took a shaky breath in and tried again. "I'd forgotten what Christmas feels like to me." She bit her lip and looked away from him. "I'm just gonna... I'm going to go back to the ship." She handed him her bracelet. "In my absence, just remember... anything from me if you leave Astrid alone." She cast Astrid a look before she disappeared. Astrid had been studying the exchange from a polite distance. She'd concluded that they shared a connection of some description, but it wasn't sexual or romantic, or really very friendly at all. He was still hers for the taking.

* * *

"Oh, god." Magdalena stumbled into the TARDIS, closing the door behind her. She leaned against one of the Y shaped supporting columns. Taking a moment to wipe her eyes and try to rid herself of this horrible feeling inside, she spied the camera the Doctor liked to use to record holographic messages. She sucked in her emotions and turned it on. It took her 20 minutes of trying to figure out what to say before she started recording.

"Hi..." She began slowly. "I don't know when you'll get this... I don't want to know when you get this, so when you watch it, please don't tell me. I suppose I should clear things up a bit. This is being recorded while your on Earth with _Astrid_. I hope you took my offer." She paused for a second to smile slightly. "I'll be pissed if you didn't. Uh, I've programmed this to only play when I'm not there... so maybe there are other people there... maybe not. I guess you're wondering what the point of this is. See, in the future, I've seen what kind of a man you become without Rose... sometimes you can be fantastic but other times, you're just..." She shook her head when she couldn't find the word. "What's worse is I know what I've seen and how you behave towards me... it's only the beginning. And although you won't completely understand this right now, that prospect is terrifying. It's really, truly horrifying. I don't know exactly what happens but whatever it was made me find a G.E.N.I.E and wish to forget it. You know as well as I do it's hard for a Gallifreyan to forget, but I was obviously quite desperate.

"So I wanted to record this so you know that when she comes back, don't let Rose go. Do everything possible to keep her with you or, in between dodging Reaper attacks, I'll hunt you down and castrate you with a potato peeler." She smiled sweetly. "Don't worry, I'll disinfect it first. Oh, and after you've got Rose back, you have to forget this. I would say you have to forget me, but considering how involved I've become, that might be a bit hard. One day, in the future, you might make the connection and go on a massive guilt trip. Oh, and you're also not allowed to regenerate for another... 20 or 30 odd years. Or preferably, just don't regenerate until your body wears out and you'll die of old age if you don't. Although dying of old age is a perfectly good way to go. I'm just saying." She was about to turn off the camera when the whole TARDIS shook as meteoroids hid the Titanic.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"You all right?" The Doctor asked Astrid after the meteoroids had done their damage.

"I think so." She told him.

"Bad name for a ship." He said. "Either that or this suit is really unlucky." The Doctor knelt to examine one of the stewards, who turned out to be dear.

Ev-everyone... Ladies and gentlemen, Bannakaffalatta, I must apologize on behalf of Max Capricorn Cruiseliners. We seem to have had a small collision." The Chief Steward informed them.

"Small?" Morvin questioned indignantly.

"You know how much I paid for my ticket?" Rickston asked in his usual snobby way.

"If I could have silence, ladies, gentlemen..." The Chief Steward tried to calm them down, only to be ignored as the guests continued arguing.

"Quiet!" He yelled rather more forcefully. "Thank you. I--I'm sure Max Capricorn Cruiseliners will be able to reimburse you for any inconvenience. But first I would point out that we are very much alive."

"Are you all right?" Astrid asked Mr Copper as she helped disinfect the cut on his forehead.

"She is, after all, a fine, sturdy ship. If you could all stay here while I ascertain the exact nature of the -- the situation." The Chief Steward requested. He went to open a hatch.  
"Don't open it!" The Doctor yelled at him, but it was too late. The hatch opened and the Chief Steward was sucked into space by the vacuum. The Doctor struggled over to the comms and used the sonic screwdriver to replace the shield.

"Oxygen shield stabilized." A calming female voice announced from the computer.

"Everyone all right? Astrid? M- oh."

* * *

Magdalena opened the TARDIS door tentatively. She was... on Earth?  
"Oh..." She whispered as she realised the TARDIS had locked onto the nearest centre of gravity to the Titanic. Which would be, obviously, planet Earth. She stepped out onto the deserted street and looked skywards. Walking back into the TARDIS, she closed the door and made her way to the TARDIS wardrobe. Surely there had to be _something_ there to piss Astrid off...  
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The Doctor, Astrid, Mr Copper, Rickson and the Van Hoffs had battled their way from one deck to another, only to find themselves in another open room which was, thankfully, Host-free.

"Morvin, look, food." Foon pointed out to her husband.

Rickston had a look of disdain upon his face as he said sarcastically "Oh great. Someone's happy.'

"Don't have any then." Morvin brushed him off. As the Doctor communicated with Alonso Frame over the comms, Astrid couldn't help but feel they were being watched.**  
**"Let me know if you find anything." She heard the Doctor say as he took off his glasses._ "_And keep those engines going!"  
Astrid shook off the feeling and picked up a plate of food to take to him. Right before her eyes, Magdalena appeared right next to him and said something to him in a soft, foreign tongue. His back was turned to her, so she couldn't see his reaction, but she heard him reply in the same delicate language. She got the feeling it was something special, something no one else was a part of. Astrid hesitated for a second when she realised what the younger girl was wearing. It was black, short and... tight. Very tight. Enough to make Astrid glance at her own body and feel just the tiniest bit undermined. The girl smiled broadly at that very moment, almost like she'd planned it, and Astrid suppressed a gasp of surprise. Magdalena, she realised, was gorgeous. Sure, Astrid had realised she was _pretty_ before, but something changed when she looked happy. The Doctor took off his jacket and slid it over her shoulders.  
"What'd you do that for?" Magdalena asked in English quietly, but loudly enough for Astrid to hear.  
"I don't want those men looking at you like that. Why would you get changed, anyway? What you were wearing before was perfectly fine." He said.  
She mouthed 'anything' at him and he shook his head in an amused manner.  
"You're really stubborn about this, aren't you?"  
She nodded. "Yeah."  
He paused for a second, as if he was considering something. "Okay. But I expect to be able to redeem that 'anything' whenever I want. Preferably multiple times."  
"I look forward to it." She said smiling victoriously. Astrid felt frustrated. She knew there was something she should realise. Something staring her right in the face. A penny waiting to drop. Like it should be blatantly obvious. Something in that girl's smile should be tipping her off... but it wasn't. And the Doctor's comment? 'Anything' at any time, multiple times? Well, Astrid wouldn't touch that comment with a 10-metre pole.

=-=-=

"Saved you some." Astrid finally approached the Time Lord and his companion. "You might be a Time King from Gaddabee but you need to eat."

"Time _Lord_ from _Gallifrey_." Magdalena said under her breath.

The Doctor shot her a pointed look before focusing on Astrid.

"Thanks." He said, taking the plate and sitting down. Magdalena sat on his knees and Astrid sat opposite them.

"So, you look good for 903." She commented.

"You should see me in the mornings." The Doctor said.

Magdalena laughed quietly. "What are you talking about? We don't sleep at night." She said, enjoying the effect the innuendo had on Astrid. And the Doctor. He choked slightly on whatever alien delicacy he'd been chewing on. Astrid turned slightly pinkish, partially out of embarrassment and partially from anger. That penny she'd been waiting on to drop? Yeah, it was whistling past her ear on its way to the ground. Magdalena was _playing_ her. She was doing it on purpose with the sole intention of subverting the Doctor's attention. She was trying to get a rise out of Astrid and manipulate her into thinking... well. What was more annoying was that she'd realised Astrid had realised and she was still smiling smugly across the table. He put his hand on Magdalena's thigh, about 10 cm above her knee, and Astrid realised that he was part of it, too. Magdalena who, Astrid realised, looked barely 18 at the most had played the Doctor as well.

"Don't say stuff like that." He said softly, trying to save Astrid the embarrassment of seeing one of their fights.

"Why? It's true. We don't sleep at night. Anyway, you started it."

"When?"

"Uh, 'But I expect to be able to redeem that 'anything' whenever I want. Preferably multiple times.' Remember that?" She said, equally as quietly. A moment of realisation passed over him when he realised what he'd said. Mr Copper joined them.

"Doctor," He said. "It must be well past midnight, Earth time. Christmas Day."

"So it is. Merry Christmas." The Doctor said.

"This Christmas thing, what's it all about?" Astrid asked.

"Long story. I should know, I was there. I got the last room."

"But if the planet's waking up, can't we signal them? They can send up a rocket or something." Mr Copper said.

"They don't have spaceships." Magdalena said.

"No, I read about it. They have shuffles, space shuffles."

"Mr Copper, this degree in Earthonomics,... where's it from?" The Doctor asked. They had to swear not to tell anyone before Mr Copper would answer.

"Mrs Golightly's Happy Travelling University and Dry Cleaners."

They then established that Mr Copper had lied to get his job and if they survived the Host's attack, he'd probably go to jail. They were interrupted by a banging on the door.

"A Host! Move! Come on!" The Doctor commanded as he leapt up, shoving his companion off his lap and rushing to the opposite door. The party joined the Doctor in time to see him use the Sonic Screwdriver to open a door. The door revealed a large open cavity that ran the height of the ship. The only way across the chasm was a makeshift bridge, made from a fallen strut. The engines were running below them.

"Is that the only way across?" Rickston asked.

"On the other hand, it is a way across." The Doctor said.

"The engines are open." Astrid said.

"Nuclear storm drive. Soon as it stops, the Titanic falls." He explained.

"But that thing, it'll never take our weight." Morvin stated.

"You're going last, mate." Rickston sneered.

"It's nitrofine metal. It's stronger than it looks." Magdalena said.

"All the same, Rickston's right. Me and Foon should -- " Morvin said. He went to test his weight on a piece of metal near the edge when the Doctor stopped him.

"Wait! Magda, you go first. You can transport yourself if the metal gives way." The Doctor said.

"Magda? When did that happen?" She asked him.

"Are you really going to leave our lives to a _girl_?" Rickston sneered.

"What have you got against women? You prefer men, big boy?" Magdalena asked him sharply.

Rickston made a disgusted noise. "I'm not gay!" He protested, as if it was the worst thing in the world.

"Oh, so you're misogynistic _and_ homophobic. Wonderful." She snarked back.

"Stop it. Just go already." The Doctor moved her along. She made a face at him, stepped on a weak piece of metal near the edge and shrieked as she began falling towards the engines. She shifted herself back to safety and slowly tried again.

* * *

The Hosts were attacking them as the group tried to cross the makeshift bridge. Morvin and Foon had to stay behind because the bridge wouldn't take their weight.

"Bannakaffalatta stop! Bannakaffalatta proud! Bannakaffalatta, cyborg!" Bannakaffalatta cried before lifting up his shirt and discharging some energy, disabling the Hosts and all except one fell down into the engines. One fell onto the strut behind the Doctor.

"Electromagnetic pulse took out the robotics. Oh, Bannakaffalatta, that was brilliant!" The Doctor praised. Bannakaffalatta fell and Astrid went to him

"He's used all his power!" She declared.

"Did good?" Bannakaffalatta asked.

"You saved our lives." Astrid told him.

"Bannakaffalatta happy."

"We can recharge you, get you to a power point and just plug you in!" Astrid said.

"Too late." Bannakaffalatta told her.

"No, but... you gotta get me that drink, remember?" Astrid said.

"Pretty girl." Bannakaffalatta managed before he died. As Astrid went to button his shirt, Mr Copper reached for his power source.

"I'm sorry. Forgive me."

"Leave him alone." Astrid said.

"It's the EMP transmitter. He -- he'd want us to use it." Mr Copper said as he removed it._ "_I used to sell these things. They'd always give me a bed for the night in the cyborg caravans. They're good people. But if we can recharge it, we can reuse it as a weapon against the rest of the Host. Bannakaffalatta might have saved us all."

"Do you think?" Rickston asked sarcastically. "Try telling him that." He gestured behind them where the Host that landed on the bridge had started moving.

"Information: reboot." It said.

"Use the EMP!" Rickston yelled.

"It's dead!" Mr Copper yelled back.

"It's gotta have emergency." Astrid said. As she took the EMP from Mr Copper, the Doctor and Magdalena went to confront the Host.

"No, no, no. Hold on. Override loophole security protocol... Ten! 666! Oh. 21, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. Um, I dunno, 42! Uh, one!" The Doctor commanded. The Host stopped mid-action and stood passively.

"Information: state request."

The Doctor then asked his questions, finding out that the Hosts were meant to kill all witnesses and that destroying the Earth was the plan. Unfortunately, he also used his three questions and had no other way of stalling the Host.

"Information:" The Host said. "Now you will die."

As the Host prepared to strike the Doctor, a lasso was thrown over its head and tightened by Foon. She pulled hard, making the Host lose its balance and fall over. The Doctor and Magdalena kicked it over the edge as Foon let go of the rope. The group made it across, but had to leave Morvin and Foon behind.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

While Mr Copper was finding a way of sending out an SOS and Rickston was opening the next door, the Doctor showed Astrid how to recharge the EMP and Magdalena leaned threateningly against the wall, looking unusually small in the Doctor's tuxedo jacket.

"When it's ready, that blue light comes on there." The Doctor told Astrid.

"You're talking as if you're not coming with us." Astrid said.

"There's something down on Deck 31. I'm gonna find out what it is."

"What if you meet a Host?" Astrid asked.

"Well, then I'll just... have some fun, eh?"

"Sounds like you do this kind of thing all the time."

"Not by chance. All I do is travel. That's what I am, just a traveller. Imagine it. No tax, no bills, no boss, just the open sky." The Doctor told her,

"I'm sort of...unemployed now and I was thinking the blue box is kinda small, but I could kinda squeeze in. Like a stowaway." Astrid suggested.

"It's not always safe."

"So you need someone to take care of you. I've got no one back on Sto, no family, just me. So what do you think? Can I come with you?" Astrid's eyes were full of hope and excitement. Then the Doctor spied his young companion leaning against the wall with a strange expression on her face. Like she was tired, angry and lost all at the same time. She looked like a little girl for a second, with that 'scared and confused' look used in cartoons all the time on her face.

"No." The Doctor told her. "It wouldn't be fair to..." To who? To Rose? Magdalena? He wasn't sure, but Astrid followed his gaze to Magdalena who looked uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

"Who is she, Doctor?"

"She's my... companion, I guess."

"Is it worth it, Doctor? Her happiness over your own?" Astrid asked. "Is she worth it?"

The Doctor felt a pull of paternal protectiveness as he remembered being John Smith, hearing her call him 'father'.

"Yes." The Doctor answered. "You have no idea what she's gone through, Astrid. Maybe just... ease off a bit, at least when she's around." Before Astrid could reply, the ship lurched which prompted the Doctor to stand and speak into the comms.

"Mr Frame, you still with us?" The Doctor asked.

"It's the engines, sir." Alonso Frame answered from the Bridge. "Final phase. There's nothing more I can do. We've got only eight minutes left!" And oh, what an 8 minutes they would be.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The Doctor tricked the Host into taking him to Deck 31 unharmed when he met Max Capricorn, the name behind the cruise line. Capricorn revealed his plan. It was revenge for the board kicking him out of his own company. The board members would get thrown in jail for mass murder, while he could retire peacefully. His own containment chamber would protect him from the blast and his friends were just waiting to pick him up. Unbeknownst to him, Astrid had teleported herself with the teleportation bracelet to Deck 31, and was hidden away watching as the scene unfolded.

"So that's the plan." The Doctor said. "A retirement plan. 2000 on this ship, 6 billion underneath us, all of them slaughtered. And why? Because Max Capricorn is a loser."

"I never lose." Capricorn boasted.

"You can't even sink the Titanic."

"Oh, but I can, Doctor. I can cancel the engines from here." Capricorn told him as alarms began wailing.

"You can't do this!"

"Host, hold him." Capricorn demanded. Two Hosts held the Doctor by the arms and pulled him away. Capricorn ordered the Hosts to kill the Doctor, and one Host removed his halo getting ready to follow its orders.

"Mr Capricorn!" Astrid called from her seat in the forklift. "I resign." She started the forklift and sped towards Capricorn. She lifted up the front of Capricorn's life support just enough so the front tires had no traction. His back tires still had enough grip to cause a standoff. The Host that was about to kill the Doctor used its halo to throw at Astrid instead, but missed and hit something else.

"He's cut the break line!" The Doctor yelled. Astrid, determined, raised the fork higher, lifting Capricorn completely off the ground and accelerated. They both went over the edge.

"Astrid!" The Doctor cried and ran to the edge to see Astrid falling towards the engines, her hands reaching for him.

Up in the Bridge, Alonso Frame tried to control the falling ship. In the reception Rickston, Mr Copper and Magdalena held onto various pieces of furniture, clinging on for dear life. Morvin and Foon clung to each other as the ship sped towards Earth.

The Doctor used the Hosts to get up to the Bridge. He and Alonso then proceeded to use the heat generated from the re-entry to start the secondary storm drive (although not without their fair share of amusing banter).

"We made it." Alonso said, relieved.

"Not all of us." The Doctor said, referencing Bannakaffalatta and Astrid. He paused. "Teleport! She was wearing a teleport bracelet!" He rushed out the door, Alonso in trail. They ran into the Reception, where Morvin, Foon, Rickston, Mr Copper and Magdalena were awaiting him.

"Rickston! Sonic!" The Doctor demanded. Rickston threw him the sonic screwdriver. "Mr Copper, the teleports, have they got emergency settings?"

"I don't know. They should have." Mr Copper told him.

"She fell, Mr Copper. She fell. What's the emergency code?"

"Uh, let me see..."

"What the hell are you doing?" Alonso asked.

"We can bring her back." The Doctor said as he worked on the teleport.

"If a passenger has an accident on shore leave and they're still wearing their teleport, their molecules are automatically suspended and held in stasis so that we can just trigger the shift." Mr Copper explained.

"There!" The Doctor cried as he finished. He turned around. A transparent Astrid stood behind him.

"I'm falling." She said. The Doctor tried to bring her through fully, but the teleport was too damaged to solidify Astrid.

"There's no enough left." Mr Copper said softly. "The system was too badly damaged. She's just atoms, Doctor. An echo with the ghost of consciousness. She's stardust."

"No!" The Doctor protested. "I can- I can save her." He looked around wildly before spying Magdalena. "You!" He yelled, pointing at her. Her eyes widened in surprise. "You can reverse time. You can save her. I know you can."

She just kept staring at him.  
"Please." He begged her. "This is my anything. It doesn't involve sex or death. Please. You promised."

"I've never- I've never tried to... without anything to focus on..." She said slowly. "It might not work. I'm gonna get sick."

"I don't care." The Doctor said.

"She's not coming with us. I don't care what she does, but she's not coming with us."

"Okay, fine! Fine!" The Doctor agreed. Magdalena hesitated for a moment before beginning. Slowly, Astrid's figure became solid. Astrid stumbled forward slightly as she walked towards the Doctor. Upon reaching him, she hugged him, a gesture he returned with vigour.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The Doctor, Magdalena and Mr Copper teleported to Earth, leaving the other survivors to wait for the rescue ship. Mr Copper was currently getting a crash course in Earth geography.

"So, Great Britain is part of, uh, "Europee" and just across the British Channel you've got Great France and Great Germany."

"No, no, it's just -- it's just France and Germany. Only Britain is great." The Doctor corrected.

"Oh, and they're all at war with the continent of Ham-erica?"

"No, well...not yet, uh...could argue that one." The group arrived at the TARDIS. "There she is. Survive anything."

"You know, between you and me, I don't even thing this snow is real. I think this is the ballast from the Titanic's salvage entering the atmosphere." Mr Copper suggested.

The Doctor looked up. "Yeah. One of these days it might snow for real."

"So, I -- I suppose you'll be off."

"The open sky." The Doctor told him.

"And, uh, what about me?" Mr Copper asked.

"Give me that credit card." The Doctor said.

"Well, it's just petty cash, spending money. It's all done by computer. I -- I didn't really know the currency so I thought a million might cover it."

"A million? Pounds?" The Doctor asked.

"That enough for trinkets?"

"Mr Copper, a million pounds is worth 50 million credits." The Doctor told him.

"How much?" Mr Copper asked, flabbergasted.

"50 million and 56."

"I -- I've got money!" Mr Copper declared.

"Yes, you have." The Doctor said as he handed the card back.

"Oh my word. Oh my vot! Oh my goodness me! I – Ya-ha!"

"It's all yours -- Planet Earth. Now that's a retirement plan. But just you be careful, though."

"I will. I will. Oh, I will." Mr Copper assured the Doctor.

"No interfering. I don't want any trouble. Just...just have a nice life."

"But I can have a house, a proper house, with a garden, and -- and a door, and...Oh, Doctor, I will made you proud." Mr Copper hugged the Doctor. _"_And -- and I can have a kitchen with chairs, and windows, and lace..." He skipped off, laughing happily.

"Um, where are you going?" The Doctor asked.

"Why," Mr Copper began, chuckling. "I have no idea!"

"No, me neither." The Doctor said as he unlocked the TARDIS. "Merry Christmas, Mr Copper." The Doctor ushered Magdalena, who'd remained silent and stoic since she brought Astrid back, into the TARDIS. He began piloting the TARDIS, noticing that Magdalena hadn't automatically joined him as she usually did.

"Something wrong?" He asked her. She focused her fuzzy gaze on him. She opened her mouth very slightly, a small stream of blood issuing from the corner and shook her head, moaning in pain.

* * *

In Memory of

VERITY LAMBERT

1935 - 2007

A/N: Who is Verity Lambert? No idea. It's just that the episode had that at the end, and I thought it'd be nice to slide it in there. So, I'm probably going away tomorrow (meaning later today), so I pushed myself to finish this before I go. Stupid parents. Can't let me stay home with my brother (he's 18 and I'm only a few years younger than him). Nope, doesn't matter that I already had plans. They do this _every_ holidays. Unless I warn them several months in advance. Next chapter's actually gonna be original work (oh my!).


End file.
